


The Potter Twins and The Sorcerer's Stone

by arghsigh



Series: The Potter Twins [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Has a Sibling, Harry Potter Has a Twin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 94,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arghsigh/pseuds/arghsigh
Summary: When Chrys Potter finds something intriguing, she'll draw it on a napkin. When her brother Harry finds someone in danger, he rushes to save them. Chrys warily follows. Circumstances become even more intriguing, and entirely too dangerous when the twins turn eleven, and they are pushed into the world of magic…





	1. Of Snakes and Punishments

As usual, Chrys had spent the night in and out of sleep. Daylight slipped under the door, but Chrys was still halfway gone. Her eyelids flickered as she watched the spider on the ceiling add a few new lines to its web. The spinning and glinting was hypnotic. Then something collided with her leg. She looked down and found the culprit—her brother's foot. Chrys frowned and kicked at Harry's side.

"Wuzzit?" Harry mumbled as he woke with a jolt.

"You kicked me," Chrys informed him. It was hard to glare at him when he was blinking up at her with those bright green eyes of his. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand even more on end-if that were possible.

"Oh... sorry 'bout that Chrys. I was dreaming..."

"What about?" Chrys flipped over onto her stomach, leaning on her elbows.

"Well, there was this flying motorcycle," he began. Chrys raised her eyebrows. "I know, weird." He frowned. "And even weirder, I don't think it's the first time I've had that dream-" The sound of rapping knuckles cut him off. 'Uh-oh,' Harry mouthed as their Aunt Petunia's shrill voice drilled at the door.

"You two, up! Now!" She shrieked. Harry and Chrys cringed in unison. Their aunt's voice was not a pleasant sound to be greeted by. "Are you awake yet?" She pestered.

"Almost," Harry called back.

"Well hurry up. I want the bacon cooked and the table set. Everything has to be perfect for Duddy's birthday," she told them. Chrys heard the sound of her aunt's retreating footsteps—now that was a delightful noise. Harry made a face that said he'd forgotten all about the momentous occasion of their cousin's eleventh birthday. Chrys mimed gagging and Harry grinned, flicking a spider off a pair of socks.

"We've got a new web," Chrys told him, gesturing not too far up at the ceiling. Even at her 148 cm, Chrys had to crouch to get through the doorway of their bedroom (well, it was more of a cupboard really) under the stairs.

"That's nice," Harry said distractedly. He yawned. "Is it my turn for the bathroom?" Chrys nodded, handing him a reasonably fresh set of clothes.

"You've got the bacon right? Aunt Petunia will kill me if I burn it."

"If you burn it _again_ ," Harry corrected knowledgably. Chrys did not dispute this. Her cooking abilities (or lack thereof) had set off the fire alarm more than once.

"Off you go," she said instead, pushing him out the door and shutting it behind him. Once she was dressed, she headed to the kitchen.

Harry was all ready standing in front of the stove, poking at the bacon with a spatula.

"Brush your hair!" Uncle Vernon said, glancing up at her as she walked in.

"Good morning to you too," Chrys muttered under her breath. "I'm surprised he doesn't know by now that our hair is completely untamable," She whispered to Harry as she got out a stack of twins both had scruffy hair, though hers was dusty brown and his was black as ink.

"It's just the way we are," Harry agreed. "Uncle Vernon can bark about haircuts all he wants, but the hair has a mind of its own."

"A very stubborn mind." Chrys yawned again. She slipped a dish under Uncle Vernon's newspaper, he glared, she smiled brightly in defense. He shook his head and went back to his paper. Chrys' stomach growled as the scent of bacon wafted over to her. She leaned over Harry's shoulder and sniffed as he plopped it onto a plate. "Do you think I'll get a piece?" She asked him wistfully.

"Half if you're lucky," Harry said after thinking it over. "Aunt Petunia counted them when I started cooking." He picked up the carton of eggs.

"Well, you can have my half if I ever receive it," she told him, pinching his skinny side as she passed by with the silverware.

"Chrys!" He warned, as she jostled the eggs. She gave him an apologetic grin. "Besides," Harry added as she came back, leaning on the counter to she fold some napkins. "You need to eat too." She waved his concern away. She was well aware that the two of them were skinnier than toothpicks. Both agreed that being squashed up in a cupboard did nothing good to their all ready diminutive statures, but Harry tended to be more self-conscious about his appearance.

Their glasses (the cheapest brand, which Aunt Petunia had only agreed to buy after their teacher pointed out the squinting at the blackboard was getting to be a bit much) didn't help. The out of fashion circular lenses had gotten plenty of pointing and giggles sent her way over the years, but at least hers weren't held together with tape. Harry's glasses hadn't stood up well to Dudley's habit of punching him in the face. Luckily Harry was an ace sprinter. Chrys was an average runner, but then again in the house she didn't have as much to run from. Dudley mostly pulled her hair, which was annoying, but not as bad as the possibility of a broken nose. It seemed, as far as girls were concerned, Dudley's bullying had never leveled up from a toddler's actions. Speaking of girls, Harry seemed to think his almond shaped green eyes were a bit too feminine. When Chrys said she thought his eyes were pretty, he rolled them and told her she'd proven his point. Apparently he preferred her hazel eyes, which according to him were 'more manly.' Chrys had spent the entire day flexing her non-existent muscles at him.

The only physical trait Harry liked about himself was the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Chrys was not nearly as found of the identical mark on her brow. When they were younger she refused to look in a mirror, because that scar gave her the shivers every time. There was something off about it. Harry didn't disagree, but the most Aunt Petunia would say when asked, was they'd gotten the scars during the car accident that had killed their parents.

"It's not likely for people to get the same exact injuries during an accident," Chrys had pointed out. Harry tilted his head.

"Hmm... unlikely, but no impossible, I mean we're living proof." He paused. "Though I guess Aunt Petunia could be lying."

Chrys nodded. "I wouldn't put it past her. Anyway, for all we know they could just be really odd birthmarks."

"Could be," Harry agreed, rubbing his forehead. "We know so little about ourselves that anything could be possible." Chrys had asked Aunt Petunia several times about the enigma that was their parents. Aunt Petunia reminded her with a sharp slap that asking questions was not allowed.

"If anything is possible, then anything is possible," Chrys reasoned. Harry gave her a 'well, duh!' look. Chrys coughed. "I mean, good things are possible too Harry."

"Good things like stealing Dudley's licorice?" He teased her. Chrys' obsession for the sweet would never rest.

She bumped lightly against his shoulder. "Or something even better."

Harry gasped theatricality. "Something better than licorice—impossible!"

Chrys laughed. "Well I think we're good looking," she said presently, patting Harry on the shoulder.

"Sure, Chrys."

Harry switched off the stove.

"We've got a very special day planed for our baby angel!" Aunt Petunia squealed from out in the hallway. Dudley grunted in return.

"Pig in a wig alert," Harry whispered as their blubbery, watery eyed, thick haired cousin waddled into the room. Chrys suppressed a snort, and grabbed the plate of bacon, placing it on the table before Aunt Petunia could complain. Harry did the same with the eggs. Petunia however, seemed more occupied with watching Dudley struggle to count his presents. With some difficulty, Harry and Chrys squeezed into their seats. Between the gigantic stack of presents, Vernon's bulk, and Dudley butt, Chrys was surprised anything else fit in the room.

"Thirty-six," Dudley finally figured out, his brow furrowing. He looked over at his parents. "That's two less than last year." Chrys rolled her eyes.

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from mummy and daddy," Aunt Petunia pointed out.

"Alright, thirty-seven." Dudley's face screwed up. Harry and Chrys exchanged a look, sensing the oncoming storm of a patented Dudley temper tantrum-and started gobbling up their food as fast as their forks could go, hoping to finish before Dudley upturned the table, which was something that had happened on more than one occasion. Aunt Petunia rushed to the rescue.

"And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today," she said hurriedly. "How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"

"So, I'll have thirty... thirty..." Dudley's face was red with effort.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Aunt Petunia informed him. Dudley relaxed into his chair.

"Oh, alright then." He dragged the largest present over and began tearing off the paper.

The phone rang and Aunt Petunia popped up to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap his presents. Chrys fiddled with her napkin, and then smoothed it out, pulling a pen from behind her ear. She doodled a pig in a wig, a long necked horse, a no neck walrus, and two handsome stick bugs sitting down at a table for breakfast. She slipped the drawing over to her brother. Harry laughed so hard they almost missed Aunt Petunia's announcement as she reentered the room. Apparently Mrs. Figg had injured her leg and wouldn't be able to care for the twins while Dudley was out for his birthday celebrations.

"I wish I felt worse about her getting hurt," Harry whispered. Chrys shrugged. Mrs. Figg was a nice enough lady, but she was almost as obsessed with cats as Chrys was with licorice. Except Chrys' licorice disappeared fairly quickly. Mrs. Figg's cats stuck around, and sat on Chrys' head. Chrys spent most of her visits trying to shoo the felines away. Harry, being too polite to say 'no' was constantly handed cat pictures to look at. Both twins had to negotiate for a longer bath time, as they almost always came home smelling strongly of boiled cabbage.

Needless to say, the unpleasantness of Mrs. Figg's house made it the perfect place to ditch the twins whenever the Dursleys wanted to go off and have some fun.

Unfortunately, that plan had been quashed for today.

Chrys squirmed in her chair as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia discussed alternative options. Each idea was more horrible than the last. Harry suggested aloud that the two of them could just be left in the house. Aunt Petunia shook her head, lips pursed like she'd just sucked on a lemon. She did not want to leave the twins alone, and then come back to find the house in ruins.

"It's not like we'd blow the house up," Harry protested. Chrys considered this. Actually, it was entirely possible she'd make something explode if she was left alone in the kitchen.

Petunia suggested they leave the twins in the car.

"Do you think they'd even crack a window?" Harry whispered. Chrys felt her nose wrinkle.

"It's not like we're dogs Harry!"

Anyway, it turned out Uncle Vernon's car was too shiny and new to have his unkempt niece and nephew muck it up.

Dudley screwed up his face and wailed. Aunt Petunia flung her skinny arms around him. Harry shook his head. "I don't know why she still buys that."

Chrys agreed. "Yeah, Dudley isn't really much of an actor."

A distraction, in the form of Piers Polkiss walked through the door. Chrys shuddered as Piers gave her a rat like smile. Unlike Dudley, Piers had no problem with hitting girls.

Dudley stopped crying immediately. Harry scoffed quietly. Mrs. Polkiss squinted around the table. "Petunia, Vernon." She nodded at them in turn. "I do hope the children enjoy there time at the zoo." Aunt Petunia blinked as Mrs. Polkiss left.

Chrys pretended to wash the dishes so she could listen to the rest of her aunt and uncle's conversation.

"Mrs. Polkiss seemed to expect those two to come as well," Aunt Petunia said in a hushed voice. She and Uncle Vernon were always concerned about how they would be viewed by 'normal society.'

"Well, unless we can think of somewhere else to put them, I guess they'll have to come along," Vernon grumbled.

Chrys gave Harry a thumbs up.

Before they left, Uncle Vernon pulled the twins aside. He spewed out a warning not to cause any funny business, or else he'd enact his favorite punishment of locking them in the cupboard with no food for an extended period of time. Harry assured him they would behave as Chrys nodded furtively. Uncle Vernon was not one to bluff.

He gave them one last suspicious glance before squeezing himself into the driver's seat.

Harry and Chrys waited on the lawn as Aunt Petunia fussed over Dudley, and Piers watched, sneering.

"…No one ever believes me," Harry sighed. Chrys gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"I do," she told him. He glanced at her, and she tapped her chin, pretending to ponder. "Though, you are like a magnet for trouble. I read this thing on Norse mythology the other day. There's this god of Mischief-Loki."

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I glanced through the book. Doesn't he get snake venom dripped in his eyes?" He recalled.

Chrys applauded his memory. "Yep."

"Well then excuse me if I don't find the comparison flattering."

"You're excused."

"Though, strange things do happen to us," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Especially when we get into a tight spot," Chrys added. Over the years the twins had been almost magically saved by one odd occurrence or another.

There were some silly things, like the time Aunt Petunia had shaved Harry's head, all except the fringe, making him look like a rather disgruntled monk. In a true testament to the speed of their hair growth, Harry's hair was returned to its former shaggy glory overnight. Chrys laughed hysterically throughout the entire thing, but Aunt Petunia seemed frightened, and Harry was locked in the cupboard for an entire week. Chrys slept out on the sitting room couch, sneaking out at the middle of the night to slip self-made comics under the door so he wouldn't die of boredom.

Another time Aunt Petunia ordered the twins to wash Uncle Vernon's car before he returned home from a business trip the next day. Harry was sick, so Chrys worked all by herself, scrubbing as vigorously as she could, but the bird poop stains just wouldn't budge. Chrys started cleaning the inside, thinking she could at least do that, and ended up falling asleep on the floor. When she woke up the car was perfectly clean, but had somehow turned a brilliant shade of pink. Chrys had gotten a week and a half for that. Uncle Vernon thought Chrys had stolen some paint (he knew she didn't have the money) and given the exterior of his precious car a makeover. Chrys was just as baffled by it as everyone else was, but at least Harry managed to sneak some licorice through the vents.

In a more serious turn of events, when Harry was running from Dudley's gang one day, innocently trying not to get pummeled, he suddenly found himself on the roof of the school building. That very same day, Chrys' head was about to be shoved into a toilet by the equally vicious female version of Dudley's gang, when the pipes promptly burst and soaked all of her tormentors to the bone. Harry insisted that the wind had caught him and carried him up there. Chrys argued that she was not responsible for the school's shoddy plumbing. The fact was though, as skinny as he was, Harry was not nearly light enough to be lifted by the wind alone, and while the other girls had been spewed by who knows what, Chrys had stayed completely dry.

As the Dursleys' public reputation had been damaged, that day brought on the worst punishment they'd had to this day. Chrys thought her ears were _still_ sore from all the shouting.

Though, there had also been occasional strokes of good luck. Aunt Petunia had a horrible sense of fashion and always tried to force the ugliest items of clothing onto Harry and Chrys. Once she wanted Harry to wear this orange puffball sweater, and Chrys to wear a high collared, scratchy wool dress. Both items shrunk smaller and smaller until they would only fit actual dolls, rather than the human sized ones Aunt Petunia seemed to think the twins were. Aunt Petunia blamed this on the wash, so there had been no cupboard punishment that time.

Chrys hoped they would get off scot-free this time as well. There was not a great likelihood of this, as the twins were excellent at wearing down Uncle Vernon's all ready thin patience. Still, if Chrys wasn't optimistic about her chances, who would be?

The trip started out with moderate success. Chrys sat next to Harry, who sat next to Dudley. The poor twins were squished up against the wall so tightly, Chrys was surprised they didn't mash together into one pancake flat person.

Then Harry had to go make it even worse by bringing up his dream about a flying motorcycle. Uncle Vernon hated motorcycles, but it seemed like he loathed the idea of them flying even more. Chrys sighed as he bellowed at them. Harry must have momentarily forgotten that Uncle Vernon would break their eardrums with his disapproval any time she or Harry brought up anything even slightly out of the ordinary.

When they arrived at the zoo, Chrys stared with sad wide eyes at Dudley and Piers' enormous chocolate ice creams. The nice vendor lady seemed to notice, because she smiled down at the twins and asked which ice creams they would like. Aunt Petunia hurriedly bought them the cheapest thing, one lemon ice each, so that no one would stare.

Harry and Chrys hung back from the rest of the group, happily munching on their ice pops. "It's not bad," Harry said appreciatively.

"And the animals look amazing," Chrys added, fingers itching to sketch their likenesses. She'd ran out of napkins though, so she'd have to wait until lunch when she could stock up again.

"Definitely." Harry pointed at a gorilla. "Hey look, that one's like Dudley, only not blonde." Chrys giggled.

During lunch Chrys sketched out as much as she could from memory, stuffing her pockets with as many napkins as could fit for later. Aunt Petunia gave her disapproving stare (her normal look when studying Chrys) but was cut off from saying anything when Dudley fussed loudly about his second dessert of the day not having enough cream on it. So Dudley got a third dessert, and Harry and Chrys eagerly shared the rest of his second one.

By the time they reached the reptile house, Harry and Chrys were beaming ear to ear. Chrys tried to peek around Dudley's bulk to see the snake he was interested in. It was a Boa Constrictor, the largest, strongest snake ever. At the moment it appeared to be snoring away. Dudley was rather rude to the snake, but he left quickly, which was the best anyone could ever hope for from Dudley.

"He must be lonely," Harry murmured, staring through the glass. Chrys reached over and squeezed his hand. As many times as they'd been locked up, at least she had Harry to keep her company.

"Tough luck, mate," she told the snake. "Sorry you have to go through this kind of thing."

It stirred.

The snake stretched its neck, rising up, up... Chrys stared. She swore the snake had just yawned. Then, unmistakably, it winked. She looked at Harry, to see if he was getting this. Harry glanced around and then winked back at the snake.

" _There's no need to apologize_ ," the snake hissed, soothing and soft. " _I'm used to it."_

"Still," Harry replied, as if he spoke to snake's on a regular basis. "It must get frustrating." The snake nodded.

"Would you mind terribly if I drew you?" Chrys asked quickly. "I'd like to have something to remember you by."

The snake smiled without lips. " _I don't mind at all...in fact, that sounds quite nice."_ Chrys rummaged through her pockets for a remaining napkin. Harry continued to have a well-mannered conversation with their new Brazilian friend as Chrys inked the soft curves of his outline.

Suddenly Piers' twitchy face appeared out of nowhere. "Dudley! Mr. Dursely, come quick!" Dudley rushed as fast as his fat body could move. Once he caught sight of the snake he shoved Chrys out of the way, elbowing Harry in the chest as he went. Harry fell roughly to the hard ground. Chrys gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to leap at Dudley so she could lean down to see if Harry was alright. And then she froze. The light in the Boa Constrictor's enclosure flickered and then switched off completely. Dudley and Piers pressed their noses against the glass, trying to see past the darkness.

Chrys helped Harry to his feet. He was glaring at Dudley, when the glass inexplicably flashed out of existence. Chrys gasped. The boys screamed and flapped their arms, but it was too late. The bullies fell with a soft thud into the moss and branches of the snake's habitat.

More screams joined the boys' shouts as the snake slithered out of his cage. People scrambled out of the way, only turning back to take a picture. Bright flashes went off, illuminating the 'no flash' signs. Not that the zookeeper had time to call them out on this. He was too busy staring at the place where the glass used to be.

" _Thank you,_ " the snake hissed happily to the twins, before snapping his jaws playfully at the bullies ankles and then slithering away. Chrys burst into laughter.

She stopped laughing immediately when Uncle Vernon turned to look at them. Even in the dim lighting she could see the angry splotches forming on his face. The zoo administrators apologized extensively, but Uncle Vernon ignored them, having eyes for no one else besides the twins. Chrys didn't see what the problem was. Dudley and Piers were fine. They were relishing in the chance to tell heroic tales of their near escape from a 'bloody death.' Even the shocked Aunt Petunia got better once the zookeeper gave her some tea (which Chrys suspected was spiked).

Still, as he drove back Chrys could see the rusting gears turning in her uncle's mind. He was trying to come up with an excuse to give them the punishment of a lifetime. And of course, Piers-the-rat was the one to give it to him.

"You and Harry were talkin' to it, weren't you?"

Uncle Vernon's eyes lit up with a murderous rage. As soon as they were alone, he spluttered incomprehensible words of anger at them and shoved them into their cupboard. Chrys sighed as the lock snapped shut behind them.

She turned to her brother. "What was it this time?" She asked, waiting for him to translate the furious-Vernon-nese.

"Not sure, but he definitely said no meals," Harry told her, shoulders hunched.

Chrys heard Aunt Petunia running around, searching for the brandy to give to their uncle.

"Should someone with blood pressure as high as his really be drinking?" Chrys said, trying to keep her tone light. Harry's head drooped.

"This is the worst."

"Worse than the green flash?" Chrys said softly. Harry's frowned etched deeper into his face.

"Second worst," he amended. Their earliest memory was of a green flash of light, and a painful burning sensation. Harry thought it must be the car crash that had taken their parents away from them. "I wonder what they looked like," he said. It wasn't the first time he mused on this.

Chrys bit her lip. "We could search for photographs again, once we get out of this place. I'll run interference and you can sort through the closet…"

She trailed off at the look on Harry's face. They hadn't looked for photos for a long time. To be honest, they'd both given up any hope that they would ever know what their parents had looked like. The walls and shelves were lined with pictures of Dudley through the ages, but there wasn't a single photo of the twins. If Aunt Petunia thought the twins too unsavory for her decor, why would she bother including their parents?

"…Remember we used to pretend there was a secret relative somewhere out there who would come and take us away?" Harry reminisced. The floorboards creaked as he leaned back against the wall.

"Yeah. And every time some stranger smiled at us, we thought it might finally be our moment...though I'm not sure I'd want to be related to any of those weirdos. Their taste in clothing is nearly was bad as Aunt Petunia's." Her laughter echoed falsely.

"Remember that guy in the pointy hat? He swept it off and bowed at us... then there was that woman who shook your hand so hard your arm went numb."

"I liked that lady in green. She had a kind smile." Chrys leaned against Harry's shoulder. He shuffled, curling his arm around her shoulders.

"Aunt Petunia didn't like any of them much."

"Maybe we were related."

"... I don't know. They seemed to leave rather quickly. Almost like they disappeared into thin air. Meanwhile, we're stuck here for who knows how long."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving this over from my ff account.


	2. Of Letters and Changes

Their recent stint in the cupboard was the most drawn-out Chrys could remember. They were let out for school, but as soon as they stepped through the door at Number 4, it was back into the cupboard.

She sighed. "We've been in here so long that I've started to look forward to school."

Harry stared blankly at her like 'who are you and what have you done with my sister?'

"You've got to be kidding me," he said aloud. Chrys shook her head.

"Wish I was, wish I was."

In some ways school was not much different from Number Four Privet Drive. Though, the adults at school were even less attentive than the Dursleys. The teachers droned on about their subjects, never taking time to watch what was happening around them. So children ran rapid without fear of the never-coming consequences. Dudley and his gang ruled the male half of the school, while Meredith and her crowd handled the girls. Chrys did not like being handled.

Still, it was summer. The sun was bright and warm, and significantly better than the dust and gloom that radiated off the walls of the cupboard. Eventually summer holidays came, and Uncle Vernon reluctantly stopped locking the door, letting the twins out into the wild.

The outdoors was preferable to any other place available to the twins. Dudley's gang was so enamored with his massiveness that they showed up at Privet Drive, every, single, day. As soon as they turned up, Harry would steer Chrys clear out of the house. He did not want to take the chance that the boys might get bored with whatever they were doing and use the twins as a form of entertainment instead.

Normally Chrys might drag Harry off to the library. The librarians kind of hated her because she sometimes got ink smudges on the pages, or mindlessly doodled in the corners. Though even with the old ladies glaring suspiciously at her, Chrys determinedly checked out as many books as she could carry. Her favorite stories to read were those where dragons spoke in riddles and siblings got whisked off to far away lands. However, because of the recent fiasco, Aunt Petunia had confiscated her library card. The frustrated Chrys agreed with Harry that there was no point in going to the library if she was not allowed to check out books.

So Harry and Chrys took long walks around the neighborhood. Aunt Petunia complained about their darkening skin, and shoved sunscreen at them, but Harry and Chrys pushed her out of mind, focusing on other topics of conversation. They talked about the next school term, when they would be finally moving on to a new school.

"Stonewall might be okay," Harry said encouragingly. "At least Dudley and Piers won't be there."

"I guess…" Chrys was not convinced. Piers and Dudley were going to Smeltings, Uncle Vernon's alma mater, while the twins were going to… "With a name like Stonewall, you can't expect much."

There was also Dudley's amusing comment, that sticking people's heads down toilets was common practice at Stonewall. Chrys had avoided this all the times it was attempted or her, and was quite determined to keep her record clean. Though when Dudley offered to help them practice, Harry replied that stuffing Dudley's head into their toilet might make the poor toilet ill. The twins high-fived and ran off before the gears in Dudley's head had even started to turn. That was a fun moment.

The impending change of schools provided Chrys with another fun moment, when Aunt Petunia dragged Dudley off to London to buy the Smeltings uniform. Mrs. Figg babysat the twins again. Apparently she had broken her leg by colliding with one of her cats, which made her much less keen on them than she had been before. Chrys munched on a slice of very stale chocolate cake as Harry fiddled with the television.

Later, Harry and Chrys shared a laugh at Dudley's new outfit. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were so proud that Dudley was growing up…Chrys was just pleased Dudley had found a way to look even stupider than usual.

The next morning Chrys got her comeuppance when she entered the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was stirring a foul smelling bucket of clothes in murky water. Harry, always the daring one, asked her what it was. Aunt Petunia somehow resisted the urge to tell him off for asking a question, and informed them that it was their Stonewall uniforms. Harry idly mentioned he didn't realize the uniforms were supposed to be so wet. Chrys sniggered, but Aunt Petunia looked vindictive. Apparently she was dying some of her and Dudley's old clothes grey, which was the Stonewall policy.

"Oh you get what you give, I guess…" Chrys shook her head wearily. She shouldn't have made fun of Dudley, no matter how funny he'd looked. Now she and Harry were going to look equally as bad, if not worse.

"I'll look like a wrinkly elephant," Harry murmured under his breath.

"At least you won't be a frilly elephant," Chrys whispered back, wondering why Aunt Petunia was so fond of lace.

When Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in for breakfast, they looked mildly put off by the stench. Chrys could imagine arriving on the first day of school, and having everyone literally turn their noses up. She hoped the smell would fade by the time school started. It would be one less thing to worry about. She leaned sleepily on the table, doodling what Harry would look like as an elephant.

"Sit up straight," Aunt Petunia snapped. Chrys sat up, watching Harry, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley argue about who was going to get the mail. Of course Harry lost the quarrel. Chrys frowned as Dudley tried to hit her brother with his new official Smeltings walking stick. Dudley missed, and turned his glance to Chrys. She glared at him and got up to follow Harry.

Uncle Vernon had told all of them that the sticks were for students to hit each other when the teachers weren't watching. This was supposed to be a character improving exercise. Chrys thought this said a lot about Uncle Vernon's character.

When she reached the door Harry was all ready walking back towards her, an astonished look on his face as he sorted through the mail.

"What's up?" Chrys asked curiously. Harry appeared to be so shocked he couldn't speak. He just nudged one the letters into her hands. Chrys' eyes widened. "I got mail? But I never get mail…" She looked at Harry who was staring at another envelope that matched her own, except with his name on it.

"Who would write us?" Harry wondered aloud.

"No idea…it could be the library I guess, but Aunt Petunia confiscated my card so I haven't been able to check out any books lately—besides how would anyone know about our cupboard?" She pointed out the address, which quite specifically stated 'the cupboard under the stairs.'

"Right, also, look at this." Harry turned his letter over. There was a fancy wax seal, purple colored, with some sort of insignia on it.

"Mysterious," Chrys proclaimed, wiggling her fingers in an attempted spooky manner. Harry ignored her, intent on examining the letter.

In fact, they were both so focused on the conundrum that they didn't realize they had all ready arrived in the kitchen. Uncle Vernon made a joke about them checking for bombs because they had taken so long. Harry dropped what looked like a bill and a postcard on the table next to their uncle, and carefully started opening his letter.

Chrys was still staring at her own piece of mail, as if unsure what to do with it. Uncle Vernon had no such uncertainties. He tore open the bill, and skimmed the postcard. From the sound of the snort, he judged the bill to be rather high. Apparently the postcard was from his atrocious sister, Aunt Marge. He started telling Aunt Petunia about it, when Dudley suddenly interrupted to tell on Harry. Uncle Vernon ripped the nearly opened letter out of Harry's hands before he'd even had the chance to see what was inside.

Harry desperately reached to get it back, saying that it was his letter.

Uncle Vernon said he found that unlikely. His face colored unpleasantly as his anger rose. Despite her dislike of him, Chrys found herself wondering, yet again, about his blood pressure. Really, how was it humanly possible for a person's face to turn that many different colors in under a minute?

Uncle Vernon shakily called for Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia's curious eyes skimmed Harry's letter. Her face drained of color. She spun around, spotted the matching envelope in Chrys' hand, and stole it from her. Chrys tried to protest, but Aunt Petunia didn't seem to hear her. Their aunt looked as if she might choke on her emotions, or at the very least faint.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness, Vernon!" She clutched at her husband.

"I want to read that letter," Dudley barked, slapping his dad's head with his Smelting stick. Chrys gritted her teeth.

"I want to read it," Harry said. "...as it's mine."

"Harry," Chrys whispered a warning.

Uncle Vernon told the three children to get out, in an extremely forced tone.

Both Harry and Dudley refused, still wanting to see the letter. Uncle Vernon grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks, like they were misbehaving kittens, and quite literally threw them out of the room. Chrys confusedly followed without saying a word.

Uncle Vernon slammed the door behind her. Dudley and Harry glared at her for not putting up a fight, and then began to struggle against each other, arguing about who would get to listen at the keyhole. Chrys thought they looked like Tom and Jerry, rolling around in a cloud of dust and thrashing limbs.

Once they settled down, Harry with his glasses knocked off, peeked through the crack at the bottom of the door, while Dudley took his 'rightfully earned' spot at the keyhole. Chrys pressed her ear directly to the wood of the door, able to make out a bit that way. Then the three kids had an odd moment of companionship, gathering together to discuss what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been talking about.

"Mummy said something 'bout people watchin' us, like in a spy show or something…" Dudley said laboriously.

Harry nodded. "Makes sense, how else would they know about our cupboard?"

"But, who would be watching us?" Chrys wanted to know. Harry shrugged. Dudley squinted his eyes tightly, as if he were actually trying to use his head for once. "They seemed to suspect someone specific," she continued thoughtfully. "Aunt Petunia wanted to write back, and as far as I saw, there was no return address, so she must have some previous knowledge."

"Dad wanted to ignore it," Dudley muttered, his eyes still squeezed shut. He opened them and rolled his large shoulders. "If dad's not worried, it shouldn't be too bad." With that, he made his way over to one of the many televisions, losing his interest in the letters.

Chrys and Harry exchanged a look. "I beg to differ," Chrys said quietly. "They both seemed terrified, and Uncle Vernon definitely said those people are dangerous. He didn't want them to come into the house. He also said he and Aunt Petunia 'swore to stamp out that nonsense.' Stamp out what, though? Wish I knew…"

Harry sighed. "Can't mean anything good…I just wish I'd had a chance to see what was in those letters. Though I guess, curiosity killed the cat…"

"…and satisfaction brought it back," Chrys added, smiling mischievously. "Admit it, you still want to delve into the mystery."

"…Of course I do," Harry agreed, his eyes shining with determination.

Later that night, the twins were discussing how to best wheedle information out of the Dursleys, when Uncle Vernon suddenly got back from work, and did something completely unique for him.

Uncle Vernon pushed himself through the door of the cupboard, apparently coming for a visit.

At that moment, Harry made a stupid decision and took the direction approach. He ignored the Dursleys' hatred for questions (or maybe he was trying to utilize it) and asked where the letters were, and whom they had been from. Uncle Vernon told a blatant lie. He said the letters were sent to them by mistake.

"I burned them," he finished shortly. Chrys wilted. Harry's growled. He argued that clearly it was not a mistake, as it had their cupboard in the address. Uncle Vernon roared at them to be quiet. Then he got an unusually thoughtful look on his face, which twisted into a horrible smile. Chrys was not sure which expression was more disturbing. Uncle Vernon then preceded (in grabbled, slow paced words) to tell them that cupboard was getting a little too small for the twins, so instead he was very generously moving them into Dudley's second bedroom.

Chrys narrowed her eyes. That was a suspicious offer. Harry seemed to think so too. He asked why but was cut off by the normal declaration of the abhorrence of questions.

Harry and Chrys sighed unanimously. They gathered up their small amount of stuff, and trudged grumpily up the stairs.

"You'd think I'd be happy about getting more space, but this just feels like a trick…and I don't like being tricked by stupid people," Chrys mumbled.

"I'd rather have that letter than Dudley's room," Harry agreed.

Still, Dudley's second bedroom was far from being a horrible place. Sure it was cluttered with all of the stuff Dudley had broken (which was a lot), but it was still roomier than a cupboard under the stairs. Chrys disliked the idea of sleeping in closer proximity to the Dursleys but…

"Bunk beds," Harry pointed out with some excitement. His anger drained away. Chrys grinned. "I call top bunk!" Harry cried scurrying up the ladder and bouncing onto the bed. Chrys laughed. His enthusiasm was encouraging.

"I don't mind the bottom bunk. Knowing me I'd probably roll off the bed while I slept. The bottom bunk will be less of a fall," she figured. Harry leaned over and nodded at her. "Besides, this way we won't kick each other in the face anymore."

"That's definitely a plus," Harry agreed. They had miraculously fit two beds into the cupboard, but even though they were placed on opposite ends, the distance was short enough so that even Harry's stubby legs could reach across and accidentally kick Chrys in the face.

Dudley's whining voice echoed from downstairs. He was begging his parents to give him back his second room. He didn't want the twins in there, he needed that room. Chrys thought most of his protest was coming from the fact he was finally being denied something he wanted.

"Imagine needing two whole rooms to store all your things," she thought aloud, shaking her head in amazement. She stood up and blew a long breath across the bookshelf. Dust scattered into the air and Harry sneezed loudly. "Sorry about that." Chrys removed one of the books and opened it. It made a nice creaking noise, proof that this was the first time it had ever been opened. "Maybe I don't mind being tricked, some of these look interesting." She bent over and studied the shelf some more. "Ooh look, there's even an empty notebook and a fountain pen…oh wait, that's broken…hmm…maybe I can fix it. What do you think Harry?" She looked up and saw her brother slumped over, snoring softly. Whether he had passed out from sheer exhaustion, or the comfort of a full sized mattress, Chrys couldn't be sure.

Either way, she was happy he had a chance to rest. She climbed the ladder, carefully tucked him in, and went on exploring the rest of the room. Maybe she would come across some functioning art supplies.

When Chrys woke up the next morning, the house was unusually quiet.

"Nice timing," Harry commended her. He was hanging upside down off the top bunk. "Dudley's finally stopped fussing."

"And the result?" Chrys asked curiously, stifling a yawn.

"Nothing at all," Harry seemed, reasonably, surprised by this. "He vomited on purpose, sent his poor tortoise crashing through the greenhouse roof, and hit Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia with his Smelting stick, but they still didn't budge."

"What happened to Harold?" Chrys, who had named the tortoise after Harry when Dudley had neglected to give him a name, wanted to know.

"Crawling out the back to freedom, last I saw," Harry said, a little jealous.

"But, wow, those two must be really serious if they're not caving to the darling son's demands," she thought. Harry did a little flip off the bed, landing on his feet. "Show off." Chrys rolled her eyes. Harry just grinned. Chrys noted he was all ready dressed. She started lazily sorting through her clothes for a clean shirt.

"Well then, I'm going downstairs. Maybe I'll catch them talking about it and learn something new."

"Good luck." Chrys waved him off.

As Chrys got downstairs she had to flatten herself against the wall while Dudley rushed passed her to get the mail. He announced the arrival of two more letters to his father, who made a squawked, and attempted to grab the envelopes from his son. Dudley and Uncle Vernon scuffled for the prize, neither willing to relinquish. Harry peeked his head out from the kitchen, and after a thoughtful look, ran at Uncle Vernon with a sort of war cry.

Chrys watched her twin dangling off of her uncle's beefy neck while Uncle Vernon struggled against Dudley's wildly flailing arms.

Shortly, Aunt Petunia came out of the kitchen as well, probably wanting to see what all of the noise was about. She was wiping her hands on a cloth, and promptly dropped it when she saw the brawl.

"Boys," Chrys said with a sigh. Aunt Petunia glanced down at her, tightly pursing her lips, looking like for once she agreed.

Eventually Uncle Vernon emerged victorious, though very short of breath. All three males were bruised up from Dudley's Smeltings stick. Once Uncle Vernon could speak he ordered the twins back to their cupboard—er, room, and asked Dudley to leave him alone as well.

"So I just managed to spot the address while you three were tussling. The mysterious letter senders knew about our change in bedroom situation…how could they possibly know that?" Chrys asked a little nervously, as the two of them walked up the stairs. Harry frowned, stretching his arms, which probably felt rather sore.

"We should've just read them in the hallway yesterday, stupid of us," he muttered self-deprecatingly.

"Well, I couldn't have. I was so shocked my hands weren't functioning properly," Chrys said with a shrug. Harry ran a hand through his hair.

"That's all the more reason to be prepared this time. Listen, I have a plan," he said, as his hair stood on end. Chrys deflated slightly. She'd missed yet another meal, and she really didn't think she could deal with one of her brother's notorious plans on an empty stomach.

Harry and Chrys worked together to fix the alarm clock Chrys had found last night. Harry set it for six in the morning. When it rang Chrys sleepily opened her eyes, to see him completely awake and pulling on his thickest pair of Vernon-socks.

"Cross your fingers," Harry whispered as they tiptoed down the stairs.

"Give me a sec and I'll join you," she whispered back. While Harry moved towards the front door, Chrys snuck into the kitchen, stealing a piece of bread to fill her aching stomach.

A roaring scream ripped through the air.

Chrys sprinted out into the hallway. She squinted through the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of her brother. Then the light flickered on. Uncle Vernon was standing next to light switch, one hand holding a sleeping bag up around his waist, his other hand rubbing his red nose.

He yapped angrily at Harry for quite some time. Harry hung his head as he filed into the kitchen, putting water up for Uncle Vernon's tea. Chrys nibbled on the rest of her bread, trying to be sympathetic, but ending up laughing.

"I'm sorry," She said between giggles as Harry frowned at her. "It's just… hilarious that you somehow managed to step on his face. Tell me, was it as squishy as it looks?"

Harry gave her an incredulous look. "Well, yes, it was…I thought it was some sort of giant slug at first. The letters though," he said, trying to refocus her attention on the more important matter. "There must have been nearly six of them this time."

Chrys nodded. "I saw…and also I saw him tear them into teeny little pieces." They slipped into a mournful silence that was quickly interrupted by the whistle of the teapot. Harry poured the water carefully, yawning. "Come on Harry," she said gently. "Let's give Uncle Squishy Face his tea and then catch a few more winks."

Later that morning, Chrys was surprised to see that Uncle Vernon hadn't gone to work. Instead, he was using his valuable time to board up the mail slot. Aunt Petunia carefully pointed out that there might be some complications with this 'solution,' but Uncle Vernon waved her excuses away. He insisted that 'those people' had a lack of common sense. Chrys thought this was a bit rich of him to say while he was using a slice of fruitcake to hammer a nail in.

Chrys had never valued her quick counting skills so much. When Uncle Vernon's plan was foiled, and letters leaked through every crack in the door and windows, Chrys was able to notice how many there were before he confiscated them. "It was twenty-four this time, which probably twelve each," she whispered to Harry as they watched Uncle Vernon put his next idea into action.

"That's a lot of letters Chyrs, but at the moment I'm more worried if we'll ever be able to get out of the house," Harry muttered. Chrys eyed the front and back door, both of which were completely sealed shut. She gulped.

"I see your point…. Also his dreadful humming is wearing on my nerves." She held her hands over her ears, accidentally dropping her pen. Uncle Vernon jumped nearly a foot in the air, and glanced around suspiciously to find the source of the noise.

"At least things can't get much worse," Harry sighed. Chrys glared at him.

"You are not allowed to say that, whenever you do all hell breaks loose."

Chrys was right. By Saturday the tension in Number 4 Privet Drive was palpable. A flustered milkman delivered the eggs to Aunt Petunia through the living room window. When Harry cracked them open to make breakfast, rather than yolks and whites, letters came spilling out…the amount of letters had doubled again.

Uncle Vernon called the post office and the milk company to complain, but no one knew anything about the strange goings on.

Aunt Petunia distractedly shredded the letters in her food processor as Harry searched through the refrigerator for something else to cook. Since they had been stuck in the house, Aunt Petunia had no time to shop. Dudley's stomach had been growling louder than a bear. Half-grumpily, and half-amazed, Dudley asked Harry who on earth wanted too contact the twins so badly.

"We have no deeper understanding of it than you, Duddey," Chrys muttered. Aunt Petunia flinched and looked away. Chrys scratched her head in deep thought.

The next day Aunt Petunia and Harry managed to throw some food together for a heartier breakfast, and everyone became a bit more cheerful. They all slouched in their chairs, and Uncle Vernon had dark circles under his eyes, but he chatted happily enough.

He reminded the twins that there was no post on Sundays. Chrys was so annoyed that she decided not to point out that he was spreading marmalade on his newspaper. Uncle Vernon started using gleeful expletives, and Aunt Petunia opened her mouth to correct him, but a rushing noise interrupted both of them.

Harry gestured excitedly at the letters that were pelting Uncle Vernon on the head. Aunt Petunia and Chrys ducked, but Harry jumped up, trying to grab one…

Uncle Vernon screeched at him, throwing a meaty arm around his waist and throwing him out of the kitchen again. Aunt Petunia and Dudley followed after him, shielding their faces as they went. Chrys moved quickly, clearing the room just in time as Uncle Vernon snapped the door closed.

They could hear the letters continuing to hit against the door.

Uncle Vernon pulled at his mustache and roared out orders. They were told to pack some clothes, and get ready to leave immediately.

The other four hastily did as he said. No one argued.

"I didn't think it was possible, but he looks even more frightening with only half a mustache," Harry mumbled as he and Chrys shoved their clothes into a duffle bag.

Soon Uncle Vernon tore the boarded up door off its hinges and jumped into the car.

"No, Dudley, you cannot bring those things!" Uncle Vernon growled, slapping him over the head. The startled Aunt Petunia herded them into the car. Dudley wept at the loss, of his T.V., VCR, and sports equipment.

"I would keep quiet," Chrys whispered to him. "Your dad seems like he's gone completely bonkers." The fact that Dudley said nothing in response, spoke volumes.

Uncle Vernon drove for ages. Frequently Aunt Petunia's mouth gaped open fish-like, but she just as quickly shook her head and shut it again. Chrys thought she was trying to build up the courage to ask where they were going. They drove as if someone was chasing them, at top speed, sometimes making hairpin turns and continuing in a new direction. Uncle Vernon kept mumbling something about 'shaking them off.'

By the end of the day everyone was thirsty, hungry, and bad tempered—no one more so than Dudley. The poor boy had never gone so long without watching his favorite television shows, or shooting things on his computer. He howled like a moody dog, until Vernon finally agreed to stop outside a grimy looking hotel, far away from any large city.

Dudley and the twins were made to share a room where the beds were wet and smelled of mildew. Aunt Petunia clearly disproved of the place, but she put her feelings aside to find food for Dudley, as she was worried her poor baby was going to starve.

After they had eaten a meager, extremely bad tasting meal, Harry curled up on the twins' bed and fell asleep immediately. Dudley fell asleep just as quickly, snoring louder than an elephant. Chrys stayed up well into the morning, sitting on the windowsill, staring out into the distance, trying to understand what was happening.

A new day dawned, but conditions were not much improved. Harry scooped canned tomatoes onto stale toast while Aunt Petunia poured out some equally old cornflakes. Dudley picked at his food for a moment, clearly not impressed. Chrys pointed out that this might be all they got to eat today. Dudley scarfed it up at record speed after that. The rest of them had almost finished eating when suddenly the owner of the hotel walked over to them.

She confusedly explained to them that she had quite a few letters for them, under the names of H. and C. Potter. She held one up as proof. Harry jumped to reach it, but Uncle Vernon tore it up before he could get it. Vernon followed the increasingly bewildered hotel owner out of the room while Aunt Petunia shuffled uncomfortably. Aunt Petunia hated public incidents more than anything, and at the moment her husband was the cause of one.

Later, when they had driven for quite some time, Aunt Petunia finally plucked up some sparse nerve and managed to suggest they head home.

Uncle Vernon ignored her.

Dudley wondered what his father was looking for. Aunt Petunia shook her head. No one had any idea what was going on in that tiny brain of his.

When the car finally stopped Dudley looked up excitedly, but they were still in the middle of nowhere. To be exact, they had stopped in the middle of a forest. Uncle Vernon got out of the car, studying the area. Aunt Petunia and Dudley stayed in the car, not liking the appearance of the dark woods. Chrys and Harry exchanged a look, wondering if they should get out and explore, when Uncle Vernon suddenly shook his head, popped back in the car and drove off again. Throughout the day he stopped several times in the middle of unassuming, out of the way locations, but none of them seemed to meet his unknown expectations.

When they stopped on a misty coast later that afternoon, Uncle Vernon locked the rest of them inside the car and wandered off somewhere. "Maybe you're right," Dudley said to Chrys. "Maybe he has gone mad." Chrys would have been astounded that he was agreeing with her, had her observation not been so obviously correct. Dudley squeezed his fat body into the front seat and started up and conversation with his mother. Well, it was more like he was complaining to her as she nodded warily.

As Dudley talked about all the great television he was missing this Monday, something in Harry's eyes suddenly sparked. "Dudley's usually good with the date, if only so he can keep up with his shows…" Harry said thoughtfully. Chrys nodded, wondering where he was going with this. "Well, you do realize that means that tomorrow is Tuesday?"

Chrys stared at him. "Is Uncle Vernon's stupidity rubbing off on you?" She asked worriedly. Harry stuck his tongue out at her.

"You don't have to be so offensive…I only meant that our eleventh birthday is tomorrow."

"Oh…" Now Chrys felt stupid. "Happy early birthday then."

Harry snorted. "Our birthday is not a happy time," he reminded her. "Last year you got a coat hanger and I got an old pair of Uncle Vernon's socks."

"Eeew." Chrys wrinkled her nose. "Okay, I see what you mean. Still, it is kind of exciting, being somewhere new. It's almost like an adventure."

"Maybe. And I mean, it our eleventh, you don't turn eleven every day."

"Yeah."

Shortly after their conversation, a scarily pleased looking Uncle Vernon returned. He announced that he'd found the perfect place. While they all piled out of the car, Chrys noticed that Uncle Vernon was carrying a long thin object wrapped in brown paper. Aunt Petunia saw it as well, and asked him what it was. Uncle Vernon pretended he didn't hear her. Chrys thought that maybe the twins weren't the only ones who weren't allowed to ask questions.

It was very chilly by the sea. Uncle Vernon gestured towards a rocky looking small island type thing far out to sea. When Chrys squinted she could just make out a crumbling little shack that most definitely did not have the amenities Dudley was begging for.

"It's miserable," Harry said under his breath as Uncle Vernon excitedly told them that there was a storm tonight.

"I'm miserable," Chrys echoed, as Uncle Vernon led them to a small boat owned by a little old man. The old man flashed a toothless smile that made Aunt Petunia grimace. No one was eager to get into the boat. Uncle Vernon assured them that he had enough rations (which was not a reassuring word) and they reluctantly gathered into the boat. Chrys sadly watched the old man walk away.

At least he might've been better at rowing the boat.

As it was, Uncle Vernon guided the boat bumpily through the grey waters. Chrys clutched at Harry, her stomach whirling as the icy wind slapped at their faces. Eventually they reached the stone isle and Uncle Vernon pushed them into the shack. The storm grew worse and worse. There was no way off this island now.

"Smells like seaweed," Harry said. "And we could do with some of Uncle Vernon's mad hammering right about now." He gestured at the many cracks in the feeble wooden structure. The cold air had no problem seeping in and biting at their noses.

Chrys ignored him, quickly glancing around. There were only two rooms. The floors were made of dirt and there was a fireplace…that was soaked and barren.

"I've got a bag of crisps each and four bananas," Uncle Vernon spoke up, placing his so-called rations in the middle of the room. Dudley gobbled it up gloomily. In contrast, Uncle Vernon could have been the happiest person on earth. He whistled cheerfully as he tried (and failed) to light the empty crisp bags on fire.

"Obviously he thinks no one will find us all the way out here, especially what with the storm…and I agree," Harry muttered.

Chrys sighed. "After all this, no more letters."

The wind and waves shook the entire hut. Chrys attempted to rub some of the grime off the windows, trying to see outside. She had no luck. Aunt Petunia called her over, and the two of them searched the second room until they found a couple of worn, moldy blankets. Aunt Petunia set up a bed for Dudley on the run down sofa, and then followed Uncle Vernon into the second room, where the only small bed was located.

"The ground is softest over here," Harry told Chrys, patting the spot next to him. Chrys curled up at his side, stretching the blanket as far as it would go.

"Aunt Petunia gave us the thinnest, most moth-eaten blanket," she said as she shivered.

"Not like we'd be able to sleep in this weather anyway," Harry pointed out as lightning flashed.

"Too true, and at least the thunder will block out Dudley's snores."

"Yeah, what more could we possibly ask for?" Harry grunted as his stomach growled. As the night winded down, Harry rolled over to Dudley's arm, which dangled off the couch. He pressed a button, lighting up the expensive watch. "Ten minutes until our birthday," he whispered. "Will the Dursleys even remember? Where do you think the letter writer is now?" He yawned

"Hmm… I doubt it, I forgot all about it after all and…hopefully that person will be somewhere warm," Chrys answered quietly. Dudley's watched ticked onward.

"Five minutes to go," Harry said. He froze. "Did you hear that?" Chrys nodded and sat up a little. Something outside had creaked loudly. "I hope the roof doesn't cave in, though I guess the rubble would work better than this blanket."

"Ha ha."

"Four minutes…Maybe the house will be so flooded with letters when we get back that I'll be able to sneak one."

"It's a possibility…three minutes. Hey, do you hear that slapping sound? Could it be the waves?"

"It didn't sound like them…two minutes…what about that crunching noise…is the island breaking down now?"

"Well, at least we'll probably turn eleven before we die…one minute left."

"Let's wake Dudley up. At least I'll get the satisfaction of annoying him."

"I don't know…three…two…one…"

BAM!BAM!BAM! The shack shook. Harry sat up, moving to shield Chrys as he stared at the door. "Someone's outside, knocking on the door," he whispered.

"…What sort of person knocks that loudly?" Chrys wondered.


	3. Of Tails and Tales

Chrys clutched Harry's arm as the stranger knocked again. Dudley jolted half awake, mumbling something about a canon.  
Chrys hushed him. “We don’t have time for your stupidity!” The three of them jumped as something crashed behind them. Uncle Vernon raced into the room, and nearly tripped over himself—which would have been even more of a disaster than usual, considering he was holding a riffle. "So that's what that package was," Chrys realized.  
“Who’s there!” Uncle Vernon shouted out. “I warn you—I’m armed!” The knocking stopped for a moment and then…  
Crash! The door was ripped out of the wall.  
A flash of lightning illuminated the figure towering in the doorway. The wind roared, billowing a massive coat up around massive legs. A gigantic hand moved up to a gigantic head and smoothed back the mass of wiry brown hair that covered it. Chrys saw a pair of black eyes twinkling down at her. She gulped as the colossus moved forward. He crouched down and shimmed his way into the hut, turning around to gently fit the door back into its proper place.  
It was eerily quiet. The storm outside was starting to die down a bit.  
However, the madness inside was only just beginning.  
The stranger glanced at them, smiling tiredly.  
“Couldn’t make us a cup o’tea, could yeh?” His voice was rough, but polite. “It’s not been an easy journey…” He moved to the couch, probably ready to take a load off. Dudley was scared stiff, clutching the sofa arm for dear life. “Budge up, yeh great lump.” Chrys nearly laughed in shocked delight. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind Aunt Petunia, who in turn was hiding behind Uncle Vernon. All three of them looked terrified. Chrys looked at Harry, he seemed confused, and a little nervous, but more curious than anything else. Chrys didn't know what to feel. Then the stranger beamed fondly at them. “Harry an' Chrys! Las' time I could carry yeh each in an arm."  Chrys blinked hard. Only Harry ever called her by her preferred nickname. The Dursleys referred to her as 'that girl' or one half of 'them.' School stuck to her surname. The maybe-not-a-stranger studied Harry and nodded approvingly. “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes. An' Chrys…” He turned to her. “Yeh've got yer dad's eyes, but the rest of yeh's a bit of a mix." Chrys found herself smiling back at him. Within just a few minutes she was learning more about her parents than she had ever learned before. She inched forward, eager to hear more, but was interrupted by Uncle Vernon.  
“I demand that you leave at once, sir!” He hissed. “You are breaking and entering!”  
“Ah, shut up, Dursley yeh great prune,” the man said unconcernedly. Chrys did laugh this time, though her laughter petered off as Uncle Vernon waved his gun around. The man glanced from Chrys to Uncle Vernon and then reached over the couch, snatching the riffle out of Uncle Vernon’s hands, knotting it up like a pretzel, and throwing it in the furthest corner of the room. Uncle Vernon yelped and drew back. Chrys sighed in relief. “Anyway—where was I?" The man scratched his brow. "Righ' well, a very happy birthday to the both of yeh." The twins stared as he pulled a large box out of his disproportionately small pocket. “I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste alright.” Harry took the box with shaking hands and Chrys reached over, carefully flipping open the lid. Inside was a huge cake, chocolate (their favorite flavor) with 'Happy Birthday Harry and Chrys' written on it in green icing. Harry looked up at the man, gaping.  
“Thank you," Chrys said, remembering her manners.  
“Aw…” The man rubbed his neck, grinning and flushing slightly.  
“Who are you?” Harry asked abruptly. Chrys shot him a look. Harry flinched, looking sheepish, but the man just chuckled.  
“Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts,” he introduced himself, giving them each a handshake that shook their entire bodies. “What about that tea, then, eh? I’d not say no ter somethin’ stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.”  
Chrys shook her head. “Sorry. We finished our 'rations' earlier." She gestured at the pathetic burnt remains of their crisp bags in the fireplace. Hagrid snorted. He bent over, blocking the grate. There were some mysterious tinkering noises, and then he straightened up, revealing full blazing fire. Chrys gasped. Harry closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the soothing heat.  
"It's like a nice hot bath," he muttered. Chrys smiled as the fire light flooded the little shack, chasing away the shadows.  
"Yeah."  
The man called Hagrid settled back onto the sofa (Chrys was surprised it didn't give way). She watched as he took more impossible things out of his magical pockets: cutlery, some raw sausages wrapped in paper, a poker, kettle, mugs, and a flask. He took a quick drink from his flask before tucking back in his coat and getting started on a lovely looking meal. The smell of the sausages cooking made Chrys' mouth water. She couldn't blame Dudley as he shuffled his feet, obviously wanting some.  
“Don’t touch anything he gives you, Dudley,” Uncle Vernon warned him.  
Hagrid laughed in a disbelieving sort of way. “Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ anymore, Dursley, don’ you worry.” Instead Hagrid handed the twins each a couple of sausages. Chrys tossed them from hand to hand until they cooled. And then she took a bite and sighed. They were crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside.  
Harry finished his quickly and licked his fingers. Hunger was the best sauce, after all.  
Harry looked up at Hagrid apologetically. “I’m sorry, but we still don’t really know who you are.”  
“Call me Hagrid,” Hagrid said, sipping his tea. “Everyone does. An’ like I told yeh, I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts—yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’course.”  
Harry and Chrys exchanged a confused look.  
“Er, no, we don’t,” Harry told him plainly. Hagrid’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” Harry added quickly.  
“Sorry!” Hagrid turned to look at the Dursleys and growled. “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know about Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?”  
“All what?” Harry and Chrys wondered.  
“All what?” Hagrid repeated angrily. “Now wait jus’ one second!” He jumped to his feet. The entire shack shook. He advanced on the Dursleys, who were trying to make themselves as small as possible. “Do you mean ter tell me that Harry an’ Chrys— Harry an’ Chrys— don’t know nothin’ about—about anything?”  
Harry and Chrys frowned. “Chrys is really smart,” Harry said. “She knows a lot of thing—I mean, not the kind of things that the teachers care about, but… she knows them.”  
“And Harry’s not bad at arithmetic,” Chrys added.  
Hagrid waved his hand in dismissive sort of way. "Sure, sure, but I meant abou’ our world. Yer world. My world. Yer parents’ world.”  
“What world?” Harry asked. Hagrid’s face went red.  
“Dursely!” He roared. Uncle Vernon went pale and squeaked. Hagrid turned back to the twins. “But yeh must know abou’ yer mum and dad. I mean, they’re famous. You’re the famous Potter Twins!”  
“W-what?” Harry said. Chrys shook her head.  
“Look, Hagrid, you must’ve gotten the wrong Potter twins, we’re not famous at all.”  
“Yeh don’ know…” Hagrid ran his hand through his hair again. He looked at them. “Yeh don’t know what yeh are?” Chrys had a feeling this wasn’t a philosophical or biological question.  
She shook her head.  
“Stop!” Uncle Vernon said. “Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell those two anything!”  
“You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left them? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Durlsey! An’ you’ve kept it from them all these years?”  
“Kept what from us?” Harry asked, nearly vibrating with excitement. Hagrid opened his mouth.  
“Stop! I forbid you!” Uncle Vernon said again. Aunt Petunia gasped.  
“Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,” Hagrid said. He turned to the twins. “Harry, Chrys—yer a wizard an' a witch." Chrys could have heard a pin drop. Even the noises of the wind and sea seemed to soften in the background. She held her breath.  
Harry finally broke the silence. "We're what?"  
Hagrid fell back onto the sofa, which protested loudly. "A wizard an' a witch o' course. Yeh'll be thumpin' good ones I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else could yeh be? An’ I reckoned it’s about time yeh red yer letters.” Hagrid pulled two familiar-looking envelopes out of his pocket.  
"Yes please," Chrys agreed eagerly. She and Harry reached out. Hagrid handed them over. The letters were like all the others, with the thick yellow paper, and the eerily accurate address (‘ _Ms. C. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea_ ') written in green ink. Chrys bit her lip. The twins looked at each other, and then, in unison, they opened their letters.  
The heading read:  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  
 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_ (who had a lot of titles, none of which made any sense to Chrys).  
The letter told her she had been accepted to Hogwarts. There was a list of supplies that she was supposed to buy, and term would start on September first. There was also something about an owl that needed to come no later than the thirty-first of this month.  
Finally, the letter was signed off by one Minerva McGonagall, who was evidently the Deputy Headmistress. Harry rubbed his head, like he always did when he had so many questions he didn’t know where to start.  
Chrys leaned over, glancing at his letter that looked the same as hers, except there was his name in the salutation.  
“What does it mean, they await my owl?” Harry asked, deciding on a first question.  
Hagrid slapped himself on the head. “Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me.” He rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a ruffled looking owl. Chrys stared. Hagrid took out a quill and roll of parchment as well, and began to write out a quick note. Chrys knew it was rude, but she was so curious she couldn't help but read the writing upside down. Hagrid wrote a friendly short memo to the aforementioned headmaster, telling him that the twins had received their letters, Hagrid would take them to buy their things tomorrow, and the weather was horrible. Then he folded the paper back up and placed it in the owl's mouth, and threw the poor creature out into the rain. Harry opened and shut his mouth a few times. Hagrid scratched his head in a forgetful sort of way. “Where was I?”  
“They’re not going,” Uncle Vernon grunted suddenly.  
Hagrid snorted. “I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop them.”  
“A what?” Harry wondered.  
“A Muggle,” Hagrid repeated. Chrys blinked at him. “It’s what we call non-magic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.” Chrys grimaced in agreement.  
“We swore when we took them in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” Uncle Vernon argued. “Swore we’d stamp it out of them!”  
Chrys frowned. Stamp it out of them? Is that why Uncle Vernon encouraged Dudley to beat Harry up so frequently?  
“Hang on,” Harry said. “You knew? You knew that we were…”  
“Knew!” Aunt Petunia said shrilly. “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was?” Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, she go a letter just like that and disappeared off to that—that school, and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn—” Chrys made a face. “—Turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was—a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this, and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!” She paused for a moment, breathing heavily. So, Chrys thought, Aunt Petunia had been jealous of their mother—that explained a few things. “Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you’d be just the same—just as strange, just as—as abnormal—and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!”  
“Blown up!” Harry shouted, color draining from his face. “You told us they died in a car crash!”  
“Car crash!” Hagrid roared, even louder than Harry and leaping to his feet again. “How could a car crash kill Lily an’ James Potter?” Did being a witch and wizard mean you couldn’t die in a car crash? Chrys wondered. “How could the Potter twins not know their own stories when every kid in  our world knows their names?”  
“What story?” Chrys asked. “What happened to our parents?”  
Hagrid’s face fell. “I never expected this… I had not idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Ah, Harry, Chrys, I don’ know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh—but someone’s gotta—” He shot a glare at the Dursleys. “—Yeh can’t go off ter Hogwarts not knowing. Well, it’s best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh—mind, I can’t tell yeh everythin’, it’s a great mystery, parts of it…” He sat down and stared at the fire. Chrys sat down in front of the fire, looking up at him expectantly. His eyes met hers for a moment, and he sighed. “It begins, I suppose, with—with a person called—well, it’s incredible yeh won’t know his name, everyone in our world knows.”  
“Who?” Harry pressed.  
Hagrid gulped. “Well, I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”  
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”  
Hagrid blinked at him. “Gulpin’ gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. His name was…” Hagrid swallowed.  
“Could you write it down?” Harry suggested politely. Chrys rummaged around in her pocket for something to write with. Hagrid shook his head.  
“Nah—can’t spell it. All right—” He sucked in a breath. “Voldemort.” He shivered violently. “Don’ make me say it again.”  
“Alright,” Chrys said. “But, what happened with…”  
“You-Know-Who, we call him,” Hagrid told her. “An’ he, ah… about twenty years ago, now, started lookin’ for followers. Some were afraid, some wanted a bit o’ his power. Those were dark days. Didn’t know who ter trust. Course, some stood up to him—an’ he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts." A school as a safe place? "Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who as afraid of. Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch an’ wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an’ girl at Hogwarts in their day!” It would have made sense if You-Know-Who wanted them as an asset, but for some reason he never tried.  Maybe he knew they were loyal to Dumbledore and would never go over to the dark side. Though maybe he changed his mind, and that's why he showed up at the Potters' house that day. Perhaps he thought he could turn them into allies, or maybe he just wanted them dead. It was Halloween when he came into the house, and the twins were only a year old. Hagrid took out a handkerchief and loudly blew his nose. “Sorry, but it’s sad—I knew yer mum an’ dad, an’ nicer people yeh couldn’t find…” Chrys’ glasses blurred. She pulled them off and wiped them on her sleeve.“Anyway…” Afterwards, for some mysterious reason, You-Know-Who tried to kill the twins. Hagrid wondered if he just felt like it was an incomplete job, or maybe he just liked killing at that point. The strangest thing was, You-Know-Who couldn't kill them. “Never wondered how you got those marks on yer foreheads?” Hagrid told them that their scars were special. The lightning bolts were the marks of an evil curse. That curse killed their parents, but when it was turned on the twins, it didn't work properly. The twins were the first to survive that curse. Countless families, powerful people (Hagrid listed off names) were murdered, but the twins, who were only babies at the time…lived. That was why the twins were so famous.  
Harry gripped her shoulder, almost painfully.  
Chrys groped for Harry's hand and gripped it tightly. She knew he was remembering the green flash of light. But this time the flash of light was joined by a cold, high-pitched laughter. Chrys wondered if it was her imagination, or a memory stirring in the depths of her mind.  
She looked up at Harry. His cringing face reflected how she felt. Hagrid gave them a sympathetic glance. He told them he personally carried them out of the wreckage of their house, and when Dumbledore asked him to, delivered them to the Dursleys.  
“Load of old tosh,” Uncle Vernon decided. Harry jumped at his voice. Uncle Vernon clenched his hands into fists and glared at the twins. “Listen here, you two, I accept there’s something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn’t have cured—” Chrys stood up, still gripping Harry’s hand. “—And as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world’s better off without them, in my opinion—” Hagrid jumped up from the couch yet again, this time pulling a worn pink umbrella from his coat. He point the tip at Uncle Vernon.  
“I’m warning you, Dursley, I’m warning you, one more word…”  
Uncle Vernon shrunk back against the wall, his mouth clamped shut.  
Hagrid grunted, clearly liking this silent Vernon a whole lot better. The legs of the sofa buckled, and finally broke as Hagrid sat down again.  
Harry let go of his sister’s hand, and wiped his on his trouser leg. Her palms were kind of sweaty.  
“But what happened to Vol—sorry, I mean, You-Know-Who?” Harry asked.  
“Good question, Harry,” Hagrid said. Harry blinked, never having heard those words put together like that in his whole life. “Disappeared. Same night he tried ter kill yeh two. Makes yeh more famous.” Considering how powerful the man had become—why would he throw everything away and vanish from society? Though, some people have said that You-Know-Who died, Hagrid thought the notion was ridiculous. He reckoned that anyone that inhuman couldn't possibly die. There was another theory that You-Know-Who went into hiding, waiting for the perfect moment to attack again. Hagrid wasn't so sure about that idea either, because some of You-Know-Who's followers left their evilness behind as if coming out of trance. Hagrid didn't think it was likely the followers could have done that if You-Know-Who was going to come back.  
A third option was that You-Know-Who lost his strength, and was too powerless to continue. Hagrid agreed, and thought that Harry and Chrys had been the ones sap the power. Something happened that night that surprised You-Know-Who. Something about the twins, some unknown element, caused them to overcome him and drive him away.  
Harry shuffled uncomfortably under the amount of respect in Hagrid’s eyes as he looked at them. Chrys stood up a little straighter, wondering what she could do to actually earn that it.  
She thought about all the times Harry had been in trouble and she wasn’t able to help him. Surely, if she were some kind of miracle baby, she would’ve been able to help him? If they had taken down a powerful dark wizard as babies, why couldn’t they deal with primary school bullies and their own Dursley family?  
“Hagrid,” Harry said quietly. “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.” Hagrid laughed.  
“Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?”  
Chrys looked at Harry with wide eyes. He frowned at the fire. She knew Hagrid was right, over the years there had been many mysterious moments. All those impossible solutions that they had been so heavily punished for…Come to think of it, just recently, hadn't they spoken to a snake?  
"Wow," Chrys exclaimed quietly. Harry looked back up at Hagrid, who was smiling warmly at them. Harry smiled back  
“Just you wait,” Hagrid said. “You’ll be right famous at Hogwarts.”  
“Haven’t I told you they aren’t going?” Uncle Vernon said. “They’re going to Stonewall High and they’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and they need all sorts of rubbish—spell books and wands and—”  
Hagrid rolled his eyes. “If they want ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop ‘em. Stop Lily an’ James Potter’s kids from goin’ ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their names have been down since they were born. They’re off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. They’ll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, and they’ll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumble—”  
“I am not paying for some crackpot old fool to teach them magic tricks!” Uncle Vernon shouted.  
Hagrid twirled his umbrella over his head. “Never-insult-Albus-Dumbledore-in-front-of-me!” He punctuated each word with a jab of his umbrella. And then he swished and pointed at Dudley.  
There was a blinding flash of purple light, a static crackle, and Dudley cried out.  
When Chrys' vision cleared she saw Dudley running in circles, gripping his backside in his hands, yowling. As he turned around, Chrys spotted a distinctly pig-like tail sticking out between his buttocks. Uncle Vernon screamed, grabbing his family and running for dear life, attempting to hide in the other room. The slam of the door seemed to bring Hagrid back to his senses. He sighed regretfully, lowering his umbrella and rubbing his chin.  
He admitted he lost his temper, though he hadn't even meant to do that to Dudley. He had been trying to turn the boy into a pig…but maybe Dudley was too much like a pig for the spell to work. Harry chuckled. Chrys clapped in appreciation. Hagrid looked sideways at them, peeking out from behind his wild mane. He asked the twins to please not tell anyone what he did…as he wasn't really supposed to do magic, though he was given clearance for this job, which was certainly an added bonus… Harry stopped laughing and wondered aloud why Hagrid wasn't allowed to do magic. Hagrid embarrassedly mentioned something about an incident in his third year of Hogwarts for which he was expelled, and his wand was snapped. Luckily Dumbledore, who was a great man, gave Hagrid a job as groundskeeper, so Hagrid could stay at the school. Chrys thought this school must be amazing if Hagrid was so eager to stay there for so much of his life. Harry wanted to know why Hagrid was expelled. Hagrid quite obviously changed the subject, suggesting they should get some rest, as there was much to be done tomorrow. He shrugged off his enormous coat, offering it to the twins as a blanket. Though he warned them it might wiggle around a bit as he thought there was some mice in one of the pockets. Chrys giggled as she saw a mouse-tail disappear into the depths of the coat while he spoke. She spread the jacket over her brother and herself, grateful for the warmth the thick material provided.  
"It was a much happier birthday than expected," she whispered in Harry's ear. Harry smiled.  
"Yep. It was the best."


	4. Of Shops and Curiosity

When Chrys woke she felt abnormally well rested. She squinted up at Hagrid who was sprawled out across the broken couch. She was grateful he'd lent them his coat, but now that the sun was streaming in through the dirty windows, it was kind of steamy. So she wriggled out from underneath. Harry rolled over, unconsciously wrapping himself up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Chrys grinned and poked his cheek. He squirmed, waking slowly but refusing to open his eyes. "Wakey, wakey," Chrys urged, poking him again. Harry murmured.  
"Mmm…Chrys shhh, I'm having a great dream… giants and wizards…"  
"It was real," Chrys assured him.  
"Liar," Harry muttered. An odd rat-a-tat-tat noise rang out through the room. Chrys swung around, catching sight of an owl clawing at the window. "See, there's Aunt Petunia at the door…"  
"Actually it's an owl," Chrys said. Harry sat up immediately. He blinked at the bright sunlight, rubbing his eyes and staring at the strange bird.  
He was frozen still and then…  
"Is that a newspaper in his mouth?" He asked quietly. Chrys nodded. "Then it really wasn't a dream." Harry popped up onto his feet, grinning ear to ear.  
"I told you so.” She grinned back at him. “Now what about the owl?" Harry raced over to the window and flung it open.  
"Come in!" Harry welcomed it brightly. The owl flew in gracefully, dropping a newspaper on Hagrid’s chest. Then it dive bombed Hagrid's coat.  
"Is it after the dormice?" Chrys wondered.  
“Don’t do that,” Harry chided.  
“Hey, leave off!” Chrys moved to help Harry defend the coat. They tried to shoo the owl away, but it wouldn’t be deterred.  
“Hagrid!” Harry called out. “There’s an owl—”  
“Pay him,” Hagrid muttered sleepily.  
“…What?” Harry wondered.  
“Huh?” Chrys said.  
“He wants payin’ for deliverin’ the paper,” Hagrid explained, his voice still muffled by his face squashed against the couch. “Look in the pockets.”  
"There's nothing but pockets," Chrys complained as she and Harry riffled through them. Harry came up with keys, sweets, and slug pellets. Chrys found teabags, balls of string, and finally a weird bunch of coins. “These?” She held them up. Hagrid’s eyes opened to slits. He nodded, and closed his eyes again.  
“Five knuts should do it.”  
Chrys and Harry exchanged a bemused look. “Knuts?” Harry asked.  
“The little bronze ones.”  
Chrys counted out five ‘knuts.’ The owl stuck out his leg, and Chrys saw there was a little pouch attached to it. “Ah.” She slipped the coins inside and the owl flew off. Chrys waved. Harry absentmindedly folded Hagrid’s coat and placed it on the back on the couch.  
Hagrid stirred, yawning and stretching. “Best be off, you two. Lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy yer stuff for school.” He pulled on his coat.  
"Ooh London!" Chrys exclaimed excitedly. Harry was silent. He studied the remaining wizarding coins with a deflated sort of look on his face.  
“Um… Hagrid?”  
“Mm?” Hagrid looked up from pulling on his massive boots.  
“It’s just, ah, we haven’t got any money,” Harry said quietly. Chrys frowned. “And you heard Uncle Vernon last night—he won’t pay for us to go and learn magic.”  
“Maybe there’s some sort of scholarship we could apply for?” Chrys said hopefully.  
“Well, there is,” Hagrid said, scratching his beard. “But I wouldn’t worry ‘bout that.” He smiled. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”  
Harry’s brow furrowed. “But, last night you said their house was destroyed…”  
Hagrid chuckled. “They didn’t keep their gold in the house, Harry! Nah, first stop for us is Gringotts—wizards’ bank. Have a sausage—” He stooped and picked the leftovers up from the paper in front of the fire. “They’re not bad cold.” Chrys took one. He was right. “And I wouldn’t say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.”  
“Oh, sure,” Chrys said. There was a bit that Dudley had scooped out from one side, but otherwise it looked good. Hagrid cut some slices with the fire poker and then they followed Dudley’s example and ate with their hands.  
“Wizards have banks?” Harry asked, licking his fingers.  
“Just the one,” Hagrid corrected him. “Gringotts. Run by goblins.” Chrys dropped her piece of cake—Harry caught it before it hit the ground.  
"Goblins?" The twins asked incredulously.  
“Yeah.” Hagrid nodded. “So yeh’d be mad ter try and rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins. Gringotts is the safest place in the world for anything yeh want ter keep safe…” He tilted his head. “Well, ‘cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid’s chest puffed out. “He usually gets me ter do important stuff for him. Fetchin’ you two— gettin’ things from Gringotts—knows he can trust me, see.”  
"Well, that's good," Chrys said politely, still wondering about goblins. Hagrid shuffled them along outside. The three of them stood there for a moment, just staring at the sea. "It's actually quite pretty when it's not attacking us."  
"There's only the old man's boat," Harry noticed. He turned to Hagrid. “How did you get here?”  
“Flew,” Hagrid said shortly.  
“Flew?” Harry repeated, gazing up at him admiringly.  
"Really?" Chrys frowned.  
“Yeah, but we’ll go back in this.” Hagrid nodded in the boat. Chrys let out a breath of relief. Being rocked around on a boat was no fun, but better than being up in the air and having to look down… “Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got you two.” They piled in. “Seems a shame ter row though…” Chrys glanced from their boat to the far off shore. Hagrid smiled a little sheepishly. “If I was ter—er—speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentioin’ it at Hogwarts?”  
“Of course not,” Harry said eagerly.  
“Mention what?” Chrys said, blinking innocently. Hagrid chuckled and pulled out his pink umbrella. He tapped the side of the boat—they zoomed off fast as a cheetah. Chrys hugged her knees to her chest, feeling ill again. She closed her eyes.  
“Alright there, Chrys?” Hagrid asked concertedly.  
“Her stomach,” Harry said knowledgeably. “She’ll be fine once we stop—but why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?”  
“Spells, enchantments,” Hagrid told him. “They say there’s dragons guardin’ the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way—Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh’d die of hunger tryin’ to get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on somethin’.” Chrys heard a rustle and then all was silent. She wondered why Harry wasn’t asking any follow-up questions—she’d like to know more about the dragons herself. She opened her eyes and saw that Hagrid was rifling through his paper while Harry watched him hesitantly. Chrys knew Harry had gotten cuffed over the head a few times for interrupting Uncle Vernon's morning paper reading. Though Chrys also knew Harry's curiosity was incurable. “Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual…”  
“There’s a Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked.  
“Course,” Hagrid said, matter o’ fact. “They wanted Dumbledore for Minister, o’ course, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin’ for advice.”  
“But what does a Ministry of Magic do?” Harry wondered. Chrys closed her eyes. She wasn’t much interested in politics.  
“Well, their main job is to keep it from the muggles that there’s still witches an’ wizards up an’ down the country.”  
“Why?”  
“Why?” Hagrid sounded surprised. “Blimey, Harry, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.”  
Chrys startled as the boat bumped up against something. She opened her eyes and saw they were back at the harbor. Hagrid put away his newspaper and helped her out of the boat.  
"Thank you solid ground!" Chrys cried out, stomping her feet against the stone steps that led to the pavement. Harry rolled his eyes. A few passersbys gave her odd looks. They gave Hagrid even odder looks.  
"Not that I blame them," Harry told Chrys quietly. "Hagrid's huge…" Chrys nodded. She was nearly out of breath as she jogged to keep up with the gamekeeper's strides.  
"Plus he keeps acting like normal things are spectacular," Chrys added as Hagrid declared a parking meter one of the many muggle wonders. "Though I guess his idea of normal is quite different than ours…" She got thoughtful as they caught up to Hagrid. "Hagrid, are there really dragons at Gringotts? I'd love to see what they look like…" Hagrid beamed at her.  
“Well, yeh never know.” He sighed. “Crikey I’d like a dragon.” Harry stared at him.  
“You’d like one?”  
Hagrid nodded. “Wanted one ever since I was a kid—here we go.” They’d reached the underground station. Hagrid looked over some money in the same bemused way they’d looked over his coins, so Harry counted out the correct amount for him and went to buy their tickets.  
By the time they got on the train, it felt like every single person was staring at them. Well, understandably so as Hagrid had decided it was an opportune time to do some knitting.  
"Still got yer letters?" Hagrid asked as he counted the stitches. Chrys patted her pocket. Harry took his out and examined the supplies list.  
"I haven't looked at this yet," Harry said curiously, reading through it. Chrys leaned over his shoulder. Most of the items were quite unusual. The uniform seemed to be made up of black robes, pointed hat, with dragon hide gloves for protection, and warmer cloaks for the winter. Then there were books, with the word 'magic' frequently popping up in the titles, as well as more specific words such as 'potions' and 'transfiguration.' Next there was a sort of miscellaneous section, which was mainly a wand, a pewter cauldron, glass/crystal phials, a telescope, brass scales. You could also bring along a pet (either an owl, cat or toad). There was also a warning that broomsticks were forbidden for first years.  
An image of a cackling cloaked woman soaring past the moon on a broomstick came to mind. Chrys thought of the distance from the ground and sky, and hoped she wouldn’t have to fly. Though she could probably pull off a nice cackle.  
"Better than the Stonewall outfit," she said aloud.  
“Can we buy all this in London?” Harry wondered.  
“If yeh know where to go,” Hagrid said cryptically.  
“We’ve never been to London before,” Harry commented as they got off at their stop.  
“I don’t—” Hagrid started, and then stopped abruptly. He was stuck in the ticket barrier. Chrys swallowed a bubble of laughter.  
“Oh dear.” People started complaining behind them. Harry and Chrys pushed Hagrid from behind, and he eventually got loose. He scowled as they headed up a broken-down escalator.  
 “I don’t know how the muggles manage without magic.”  
"He was in awe earlier. I guess the muggle way lost its magic for him," Chrys said to Harry with a wink.  
Harry groaned. "Please don't start." Harry was not appreciative of her puns. They kept going.  
"Hagrid parts a crowd nicely," Chrys observed. They stuck close by their guide, managing to get through the busy streets of London much faster than she would have thought possible. Chrys saw Harry eyeing the shops, probably wondering which one sold magical objects. Really, they all looked pretty normal.  
"Maybe this is all some huge joke the Dursley's cooked up," Harry said sadly.  
"You know Harry, you're quite the little black rain cloud—stop raining on my parade. Besides, the Dursleys have no sense of humor."  
"True," Harry agreed, cheering slightly. "And it does sound unbelievable but…” He stared up at Hagrid's broad back. "I don't know, something about him just seems trustworthy."  
"Definitely." Chrys smiled and then walked straight into Hagrid as he came to a sudden stop.  
“This is it,” he said, gesturing. “The Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”  
“It’s just a pub,” Chrys said disappointedly. The windows were so grimy she couldn’t see through them.  
“I wouldn’t have even noticed it if you hadn’t pointed it out,” Harry said, equally unimpressed.  
Hagrid's eyes glinted secretively. “That so?” No one in the bustling crowd even spared the place a glance.  
"You know," Harry whispered. "I have the strangest feeling… do you think nobody else can see—” Before Harry could finish Hagrid opened the door and gently shoved the twins inside.  
Chrys wondered why this dingy pub was so popular. The ceilings were high, but everything was made of a dark, dusty wood. Aunt Petunia would turn her nose up and complain loudly about the cleaning (or lack of). Still, there was a welcoming glow to the fire-lit lamps. The customers looked perfectly fine with their surroundings.  
As expected most people were drinking—though the glasses were curiously old fashioned, and the alcoholic smells were nothing like the Durselys' favorites. One woman was smoking a long, Lord of the Rings sort of pipe. A familiar looking man wearing a top hat was chatting to the bald, toothless bartender. Chrys heard Harry mumble something about walnuts, but before she could ask him to repeat himself, people began to notice Hagrid. Everyone waved pleasantly at him, like they were old pals.  
“The usual, Hagrid?” The bartender asked.  
“Can’t, Tom,” Hagrid said, clapping the twins on their shoulders. Harry and Chrys nearly fell over. “I’m on Hogwarts business.”  
“Good Lord.” Tom the bartender’s eyes widened as he stared at the twins. “Is this—can this be—?” The hum of conversations came to an abrupt stop. For a moment, the entire room held its breath. No one moved, or said a word. Not a single glass clinked. Then Tom continued, “Bless my soul, the Potter twins…what an honor." He rushed out from behind the bar and shook their hands. Chrys thought she saw tears in his eyes. "Miss Potter, Mr. Potter, welcome back.”  
Harry shuffled uncomfortably as everyone stared at them. The woman's pipe dripped ash onto the table, but she either did not notice, or didn't care. Hagrid grinned, as there was a sudden rush of people hopping out of their chairs and lining up to shake the twins' hands.  
Doris Crockford was the first of many to introduce herself, and gush about how excited she was to meet them. People looked giddy at shaking their hands, like they were some kind of rock stars or something.  
“Delighted,” said a man in a top hat. “Can’t say how delighted I am to meet both of you. Diggle’s the man, Dedalus Diggle.” Chrys jumped.  
“You!” Chrys said, suddenly recognizing him.  
“We’ve seen you before!” Harry said. “You bowed to us once in a shop.”  
“Did you hear that?” Diggle turned back to the others, his hat flying off in his enthusiasm. “They remember me!” Chrys picked up his hat and held it out to me. “Oh, thank you!”  
One of hand-shakers seemed oddly serious compared to the others. He was pale and shaking slightly, and one of his eyes was twitching.  
“Professor Quirrell!” Hagrid greeted him. “Harry, Chrys, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”  
“Pleased to meet you,” Chrys said politely.  
“A-a-and you!” Quirrell stuttered, shaking her hand and then Harry’s.  
“What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?” Harry wondered.  
“D-defense Against the D-d-dark Arts,” he told them. “N-Not that you n-need it, eh?” He laughed shakily. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires myself.” His eyes widened.  
After this Hagrid ushered them out the back entrance, past a hopeful looking Doris Crockford who had already shaken their hands three times each. Chrys gave a sigh of relief at the fresh air, though she wondered why they were standing in the courtyard, which was empty save for some weeds and rubbish bins.  
Hagrid grinned. “Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you two were famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh... mind you, he’s usually tremblin.”  
“He’s alright though, right?” Chrys wondered.  
“Oh, yeah. His nerves just aren’t what they used to be. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books, but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience… they say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag—never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject—now, where’s my umbrella?” Hagrid patted his coat.  
Chrys scratched her head. What was the difference between a hag and a witch? Come to think of it, was she going to sprout warts at some point? She couldn't stand Dudley's laughter if that were to happen.  
Meanwhile Harry looked dazed. Chrys understood the feeling. She patted him on the back as she watched Hagrid count the bricks in the wall. Then he motioned for Harry and Chrys to step back. Chrys tugged Harry away from the wall as Hagrid poked it with his umbrella.  
The center of the wall shook just as hard as Professor Quirrell, wiggling and jiggling until a hole opened up and spread outwards. The opening grew larger and larger until it formed into an archway high above them.  
Hagrid walked through with no issue, turning around to gesture an arm at the cobbled road that twisted before them.  
Chrys bounced up and down in glee as he welcomed them to Diagon Alley.  
"Wicked," she marveled as they walked through.  
The archway melted back into a wall as soon as they had passed, but Chrys didn't pay it much attention.  
The sights before her were too new and enticing to ignore. Hagrid pointed out a stack of cauldrons that glittered in the sunlight, saying they'd come back just as soon as the twins got their money. Chrys' neck was starting to hurt from continuously jerking around to look at something new. The sturdy brick buildings were quaint in the absolute best sense of the word. Wind chimes clinked in the wind, announcing the coming and going of all sorts of people in and out of the shops. A chubby woman complained about the price of dragon liver as they passed the Apothecary. Musical hooting floated over to them from Eeylops Owl Emporium, where various owls were listed for purchase.  
Harry elbowed Chrys to get her attention. He pointed at a group of boys around their age crowded around a shop full of broomsticks. Chrys heard snatches of their conversation. They were looking at the Nimbus Two Thousand, a new broom that was the fastest ever. Chrys tried not to think about zooming across the sky at top speed. There was plenty else to look at.  
There were fluttering ankle length robes, barrels of animal innards labeled things like bat spleens and eels' eyes, multi-colored bottles of potions, spherical full scale models of solar systems that rotated around each other in mid-air… Chrys was particularly drawn to one shop, where books were pilled so high that they threatened to collapse on top of her. She ran her hand over the soft feather quills, trying to imagine how it would be to sketch with them. Harry had to drag her away from examining some rolls of parchment so that they could keep up with Hagrid.  
Gringotts was the largest and grandest building. Its doors were brightly polished bronze, and its guard was…a goblin? Hagrid affirmed her suspicion. They walked up the white stone steps, moving past the uniformed goblin. Chrys couldn't help but study him closely as they moved past. Overall the goblin was short, pale and pointy. His nose, fingers, toes, beard and even hat had sharp-looking edges. He bowed politely to them as they moved inside, but Chrys gulped at his watchful wry expression.  
That sort of face made her feel guilty even when she hadn't done anything wrong (yet).  
The next set of doors was silver and engraved with some lines of poetry:  
_Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
 _of what awaits the sin of greed,_  
 _for those who take, but do not earn_  
 _must pay most dearly in their turn._  
 _So if you seek beneath our floors_  
 _a treasure that was never yours,_  
 _thief, you have been warned, beware_  
 _of finding more than treasure there._  
Dragons? Chrys wondered, but it sounded more sinister than that. Hagrid reiterated his earlier point that you'd have to be off your rocker to rob the place.  
Two more goblin guards let them through the shining doors into a massive marble hall.  
"Fancy, and intimidating, " Chyrs mumbled. A well-varnished wood counter stretched far into the distance, lined with goblins in spectacles sitting on high stools. They scribbled in time with each other, taking note of the weight of their coins, and the cut of their gems. Behind the counter additional goblins led wizards and witches through several other doors.  
There was so much movement, yet it was cold and quiet in the wizarding bank. Chrys swore that the other nearby goblins were sneakily peering down at them. Hagrid led the twins over to an available goblin and cleared his throat. The sound echoed feebly throughout the hall. Hagrid respectfully informed the goblin that they were here to take money out Ms. Chrys-Chrysanthemum (he stumbled over her name, who could blame him) and Mr. Harry Potter's safe. The goblin requested a key. Hagrid turned out his pockets, plopping something green and fuzzy onto the goblin's notebook. The goblin made a Petunia-ish sniff of disgust. Chrys turned to exchange a knowing look with her brother, but Harry had gotten distracted by some rubies the size of a child's fist.  
Finally Hagrid held up the key, and the goblin examined it with approval. Then Hagrid stood up straighter as he mentioned Dumbledore's mysteriously important business. He handed over a letter from the headmaster. This got the goblin's full attention. He read quickly and carefully, and then called forth another goblin named Griphook. Hagrid took a moment to refill his pockets and then they were on their way.  
Characteristically, Harry questioned Hagrid about the vault. The twins were taken aback when Hagrid refused to tell them. After all Hagrid had been answering their questions all day. Chrys supposed this second vault was serious business. Though according to the look on Griphook’s face, all business was to be taken seriously.  
He had an intensely formal look on his face as he propped open the wrought metal door with his foot. Chrys thought he must be deceptively strong.  
Harry gasped as they stepped into the dark, slim tunnel. The flickering light from the burning torches was a bit spooky. Chrys gripped the rough walls as she moved down the steep incline. The passage felt like it had been designed for the fear-factor rather than practicality. At the end of the path was a bottomless gorge, with a miniature line of tracks rising from it. All it would take was one clumsy step and then suddenly the cold wind would be press against your body as you fell down…. down…down… There would be no end to it. Chrys shuddered.  
Griphook's piercing whistle snapped her out of her thoughts.  
A little cart came racing down the tracks towards them. It came to a halting stop and they all squeezed inside (Hagrid was a tight fit). Automatically the cart took off, moving forward. Harry closely watched their swift progress through the tunnels. Hagrid and Chrys clutched at their stomachs. The jerky twists and turns were enough to make anyone woozy. Chrys closed her eyes, not wanting watch the jagged rocks above and below them. Harry said something, and Hagrid responded, but their words were snatched up by the relentless wind. Chrys bent over close to Harry's ear and suggested he shut up.  
When the cart finally came to a still, Hagrid got out first supporting himself against the wall as his legs wobbled. Chrys took a couple deep, soothing breaths.  
Then Griphook unlocked a door and Chrys froze. Some sort of green fog was oozing out of the vault. When it cleared Chrys lost her breath. Harry gapped. Gold, silver and bronze coins lined the rooms in sizeable stacks. Hagrid smiled.  
“All yours.”  
"I never knew we were rich," Chrys said, picking up a gold coin and staring at it. Harry nodded.  
"Let's not tell the Durselys, though,” he whispered. “They'll take it all without a second thought. They've always complained about much we cost to keep."  
"Please!” Chrys snorted. "As if they spent any more than the smallest possible amount. Anyway, let’s not think about them for a moment.” She raised her voice. “Hagrid, what's the worth of these things?"  
Hagrid explained the value of the wizarding currency while helping them each fill a small bag. Chrys tried to listen, but the sheer amount of glinting gold was far more intriguing than the worth of a singular coin. This looked like a hoard of treasure from one her storybooks. She glanced around excitedly, remembering Hagrid's comment from earlier. Disappointedly there was no dragon.  
Equally annoyingly, they had to travel by hurtling cart again. Hagrid remarked that he'd like to go a bit more slowly this time. Griphook informed them that it was one speed only. Chrys sighed.  
She thought the goblin had lied.  
They seemed to zip even faster along the tracks towards the second destination. Chrys shivered against the chilling wind tried to use Hagrid's mass as a shield. The further they moved into the caverns, the darker and more mysterious they became. She could hear water gushing below them. Harry leaned forward to investigate and nearly went tumbling to his death. Hagrid and Chrys groaned and collectively dragged him back by his shirt. Chrys tried to reprimand him, but Harry could not, or pretended not to be able to hear her.  
The next vault was just as peculiar as Hagrid's secrecy had made her expect. For one thing there was no keyhole. “Stand back.” Griphook swaggered over to the door and caressed it with one of his long fingers. The door dissolved into thin air. “If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there.”  
“How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?” Harry asked, his curiosity not dissuaded his recent near-death experience.  
“About once every ten years,” Griphook said, grinning. Chrys shuddered.  
Meanwhile Harry was practically bouncing out of his shoes in anticipation. They leaned forward and the contents of the vault revealed…it was a lonesome paper bag. Harry was clearly disappointed. Chrys saw him purse his lips tightly, probably preventing himself from asking a million extra questions. Hagrid shoved the bag into his coat (which Chrys thought was a very good hiding place indeed). Then he shut down the chance for any conversation on the matter by motioning at his stomach and saying he should keep probably keep his mouth closed at this point.  
Chrys understood perfectly.  
The ride back was no easier on their stomachs, but when they stepped out of the bank, the sun was shining brightly in the lovely blue sky. Chrys felt her heart lighten. Harry was staring down at his bag of money in awe. "This…this is more money than even Dudley's ever had," he said to Chrys. "What are we supposed to do with it? We could buy anything."  
Hagrid suggested they get their uniforms next.  
"Score one for practicality," Chrys said, smiling fondly at Hagrid.  
As it was, Hagrid needed to head to the Leaky Cauldron for a pick-me-up, so the twins ended up going into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions on their own. Chrys rubbed her stomach as she glanced around the shop.  
The robes were all sort of similar to dresses, though even Chrys could see that the array of cuts and colors were diverse. However, Chrys had no idea which were the correct ones for school.  
Luckily, a woman, whom Chrys guessed was Madam Malkin herself, entered the room at that very moment. Harry smiled hesitantly at her, but Madam Malkin knew exactly what they were there for.  
"I've got room for one more in back. Who would like to be fitted first?" She asked, looking between the two of them. Brave Harry nodded his assent. Madam Malkin herded him out of the room. "Just wait here dear," she told Chrys.  
Chrys huffed and leaned against the windowsill. Getting bored, she tapped her foot and started fidgeting with the sleeve of the flouncy looking robe on display. She wished she'd thought to bring her sketchbook with her. After a couple of minutes Chrys began to get anxious. Was Harry doing all right without her? She was just wondering whether she should burst into the other room when she saw Hagrid standing outside. She ran outside to greet him, extra pleased when she saw he was balancing three large ice creams in his arms.  
"Hi, Chrys. Take one, will yeh, 's about ter spill."  
Chyrs carefully maneuvered one of the ice creams into her hands and licked it enthusiastically.  
"Harry's getting fitted," she explained after she swallowed. Hagrid nodded. The two were mostly occupied by companionable noisy slurping until Hagrid spotted Harry through the back window. Hagrid and Chrys waved happily, gesturing at the third ice cream. Harry nodded at them, but his expression was somewhat cold. He appeared to be talking to the haughty looking blonde boy standing at his side. By Harry's frown, Chrys surmised it was not a pleasant conversation. She was relieved when Harry came out shortly after. She immediately shoved his ice cream into his hand, hoping it would raise his spirits. Harry stared quietly at it. "It's chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts," she told him encouragingly.  
"Somethin' wrong Harry?" Hagrid asked in concern. Chrys opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Madam Malkin who stuck her head out of the shop and signaled Chrys inside.  
"Oh dear, what have you done to your hands? Do try not to get it on the robes." Madam Malkin instructed her as she led Chrys into the back room. Chrys sheepishly tried to lick the chocolate off of her hands. The blonde boy passed Chrys on his way out, sneering at her with raised eyebrows. Chrys stuck her tongue out at him, which made him blink in surprise. Madam Malkin tutted like a mother hen as she helped Chrys onto a stool. "Now, now, that was not very ladylike," she scolded as she slipped a robe over Chrys' head. Chrys chose to stay silent.  
When she came out of the shop Hagrid and Harry were all ready finished with their ice creams, and the rest of hers had melted to the consistency of soup. She sipped it gloomily, noting that Harry looked particularly thoughtful. "What's up?" She asked. "Did the rude blondie get on your nerves?"  
"Well yes, he was a bit of a bully…even to his own parents, I think,” Harry answered as they followed Hagrid to the next shop.  
"Sounds like Dudley," Chrys commented.  
"He said muggle raised students shouldn't be allowed in Hogwarts," Harry added with a sigh.  
"Oh…don't worry about it Harry. It was a mean thing to say but it's got no justification. We're smart kids, and apparently we're magical, so we have the right to go to a magical school. As for those who raised us, well, the Durselys suck, but… We choose what family is important to us." She flashed him what she hoped was a comforting smile. Harry returned the grin.  
"Yeah, Hagrid said something along the same lines. He also said mum was great at magic despite being related to Aunt Petunia."  
"Then there's hope for us yet."  
"Definitely…oh and guess what?” His face brightened. “The blonde mentioned something called Quidditch, and Hagrid explained to me." Chrys nodded at him to continue. "So it's this really popular sport that they play on broomstick. I'd love to fly," he said dreamily.  
"Not me." Chrys frowned. Harry stared into the distance, lost somewhere in fantasyland. She kicked him lightly, bringing him back into the conversation.  
"Right, so there are school houses in Hogwarts, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin being some of them. Slytherin was the blonde boy's favorite—but Hagrid said that loads of dark wizards, including Voldemort, came from Slytherin. Hufflepuff sounds a bit silly, but anything's better than being in the same house as the man who killed our parents I guess."  
"Have to say I agree with you there." Chrys nodded. "Do you think that…" She trailed off catching sight of the shop they were going into. "Flourish and Blotts! That's the shop I was looking at earlier."  
Chrys and Harry wandered through the shop, starting a competition to see who could find the oddest books. Hagrid had to pull Harry away from a shelf of curse related books. Harry had wanted to find a way to curse Dudley, and though Hagrid didn't disagree with the premise, he warned Harry that they were not allowed to use magic in the muggle world (except on very special occasions). Anyway, those curses would be too difficult for them at their current level. Chrys tried to commit some of the titles to memory…for future reference of course.  
At the cauldron shop Harry was for some reason drawn to a solid gold one, but Hagrid talked him down to pewter like it said on the list. The shiny scales were quite pretty looking though, as were the collapsible telescopes.  
At the quill and stationary shop Chrys spent a long time browsing through the different sorts of quills, and admiring the grain of the parchment.  
"It's just paper and writing utensils, nothing special," Harry said grumpily.  
"We'll see who's talking when I have beautiful penmanship and your quill snaps in two seconds," Chrys retorted. Hagrid shook his head and jostled them off to the apothecary, which was horribly stinky, but nevertheless intriguing. Harry and Chrys stared at the dried herbs and animal bits that hung from the ceiling while Hagrid ordered two beginners' packages.  
Then he announced they were almost done shopping. The last items they had to buy were wands—besides which, Hagrid wanted to get them a birthday present.  
Harry flushed.  
“You don’t have to—”  
“I know I don’t have to.”  
"The cake, ice cream, and proof that there's an entire magical world that we're a part of isn't enough of a gift?" Chrys asked. Hagrid smiled.  
“Tell yeh what, I’ll get yeh each an animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at—and I don’t like cats, they make me sneeze. I can get yeh each an owl. They’re dead useful, carry mail and everything.”  
“Well…” Harry frowned. “I guess so. But we don’t need one each. We’re perfectly happy sharing.” He looked at Chrys. “Right?” She nodded.  
When they exited the Owl Emporium twenty minutes later, they were both more than happy. Harry carried a cage that contained their new gorgeous owl. They had agreed on the clever looking snowy owl that had landed neatly on the table next to them just when they were starting to argue about which sort to get. "Aww…she's sleeping with her head under her wing, she's so adorable!" Chrys cooed in an undertone. Harry clutched the cage tighter.  
"Thank you, Hagrid, seriously, thank you so much," he repeated for what felt like the twentieth time. Hagrid waved his hand nonchalantly.  
“Don’t mention it. Don’t expect you’ve had a lotta presents from the Dursleys.”  
"They give us socks mostly," Chrys explained. Uncle Vernon's socks were particularly foul. Hagrid let out a big sigh and changed the subject, telling them that Ollivander's, which was the best place for wands, was their last stop.  
"I've been really looking forward to this," Harry breathed as they stood in front of the door.  
They stepped inside and Chrys sneezed. "Bless yeh," Hagrid muttered, handing her a handkerchief, as he sat down on a rickety looking chair.  
"Cheers," Chrys replied, rubbing her nose with the musty cloth. She tried to hand it back to him, but he shook his head, so she shoved it in her pocket. Then she looked around. Her eyes had to take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The windows were so dingy, and the flames in the lamps crouched low. Once she could see she blinked hurriedly. No wonder her nose felt so ticklish—every surface of the room was covered in dust. And there were plenty of surfaces to be covered. Though the room was small to begin with, the shelves surrounding them on all sides made the room feel even narrower. The shelves themselves, sagged and tilted under the weight of endless amounts of slender boxes. Chrys guessed the boxes to be filled with wands. She leaned forward excitedly.  
"Do you feel sort of tingly?" Harry asked in a hushed voice. Chrys wondered if he meant the feeling she had of constantly being about to sneeze.  
“Good afternoon.”  
Chrys, Harry, and Hagrid jumped. Hagrid's chair cracked…Chrys could have predicted that.  
The old man who had appeared so suddenly gazed unblinkingly at them. The man's humongous silvery eyes made the back of her neck crawl.  
“…Hello,” Harry said, after a moment.  
“Ah yes…” The old man looked over the twins. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you two soon. Harry and Chrysanthemum Potter.” He focused on Harry. “You have your mother’s eyes, Mr. Potter. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. And you…” The man who must be Ollivander stepped close to Chrys. “You, Miss Potter, have your father’s eyes. Your father, who favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more powerful and excellent for transfiguration.” He smiled. “Well, I say your father favored it—it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard of course.” He took another step closer. Out of the corner of her eyes, Chrys saw Harry frown. “And that’s where…” Ollivander reached forward and touched the scar on her forehead. Harry gripped her arm and pulled her out of the way. Ollivander seemed unaffected. He continued staring at them. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do…” He shook his head. Hagrid coughed, breaking Ollivander out of his thoughts, and drawing his attention to the other man. “Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”  
“It was, sir, yes.”  
“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” Ollivander’s gaze turned sharp.  
“Er, yes, they did, yes…” Hagrid looked down at his feet, smiling slightly. “I’ve still go the pieces, though.”  
“But you don’t use them?” Ollivander’s voice became as sharp as his gaze.  
“Oh, no, sir,” Hagrid said, gripping his umbrella.  
“Hmmm,” Ollivander said.  
“So…” Chrys cleared her throat. Ollivander looked at her. “How does this wand business work, Mr. Ollivander?”  
“Measurements first.” He pulled a silver measuring tape out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm, Mr. Potter?”  
“Er, well, I’m right-handed,” Harry said.  
“Miss Potter?”  
“Left,” Chrys told him. Ollivander started measuring the length of their preferred arms. Then tape measurer floated up, going about its own business of further measurements when Ollivander became distracted again. He rambled on about wand cores, and how important the perfect ones, unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers and dragon heartstring, were to the wand making process. Every wand was as unique as the person paired with it. Wands always worked the best in the hands of the wizards they chose.  
Then he stopped the tape measurer, handing a wand to Harry and telling him to give it a try. Harry made a face, but gave it a wave anyway. Nothing happened. Ollivander took it away and handed a different one to Chrys.  
The twins were given wand after wand, but none of seemed to be what Mr. Ollivander was looking for. Chrys would have thought the lengthening time of their visit would have upset Ollivander, but on the contrary he seemed overjoyed to meet the challenge. He promised to find a perfect match for each of them.  
"Cedar and dragon heartstring. Eleven inches, and fairly bendy.” He held it out to her. “How about it, Miss Potter?" Chrys was tired, and aggravated, but she took it. The wand touched her fingers and she jolted. It was like a shock of electricity through her system—similar to that time she'd gotten her finger stuck in a power outlet. Exhilarated, Chrys raised it into the air and brought it down again like a conducting baton. The flames in the lamps rose up suddenly, licking playfully along the walls. Chrys' eyes widened. She slowly placed the wand down on the table. She opened her mouth to apologize. She had been so sure… “Good fit, certainly a good fit," Ollivander said, his bushy eyebrows wriggling happily.  
"Bu-but I set the walls on fire," Chrys told him incredulously. His eyebrows turned quizzical.  
"Well, together you and that wand could definitely inflict some damage—Never cross a cedar wand, I always say. However, at the moment I think you will find everything is in order." He gestured around them and Chrys nearly laughed. The flames had receded back into their lamps and the walls remained the same as ever, completely un-scorched. Hagrid smiled down at her, and thumped her on the back. Chrys nearly fell over.  
“Well then, I'll take it!” She announced. She could get addicted to that feeling, like lightning in her blood.  
"No, no, the wand will take you," Ollivander corrected her with a wink. "Yes, and now for Mr. Potter…"  
Harry had been staring dejectedly at his feet. Ollivander handed him a rare combination wand and from the look on Harry's face as he took it, Chrys could tell it was the one. When Harry swished the wand red and gold flashes lit up the room beautifully. Hagrid and Chrys applauded and cheered.  
"We've got wands," Chrys said, hugging Harry suddenly. "We've got wands and we're going to learn how to do magic!" Harry beamed.  
Chrys happily waited as Ollivander boxed and wrapped up their wands. Now that she had what she came for, she felt somewhat bad for thinking he was creepy. Her guilty mood did not last long.  
She felt intensely justified for her original assessment of him when he started mumbling about how curious Harry's wand was. Of course, Harry had to ask what was so curious about his wand. Ollivander's protuberant eyes flickered up to Harry's scar.  
Slowly he explained that Harry's wand had a brother, whose core had a feather from the same phoenix. It was curious that this wand should choose Harry, when the other gave him that scar. Harry gulped. Chrys narrowed her eyes. Once again Ollivander spoke in fascination about Voldemort's wand, and its immense power. He was certain that Harry was going to be a great wizard, after all the owner of the other wand had been a great wizard (Chrys bristled), oh a terrible wizard, but certainly great. Harry shuddered and handed over the money. Ollivander bowed. Chrys grabbed their wands and marched them out of the shop.  
The rest of the day seemed inordinately quiet compared to the earlier bustling attitude. Harry held their owl's cage tight to his chest, lost in his thoughts. Hagrid kept a respectable silence as he carried their many, oddly shaped packages. Chrys thought that neither of them realized how the 'muggles' eyes continued to follow them along their walk. She knew they looked strange, but at the moment she felt raw and just wanted to be left alone.  
Hagrid eased their pains slightly, by taking them for hamburgers at a dinner next to the station. He chewed slowly as they waited for their train. Chrys held her food in front of her mouth, but she was too distracted to even take a bite. Harry was glancing around like a paranoid wreck.  
"You two all right?" Hagrid asked softly. Harry finally started on his hamburger, perhaps as an excuse not to talk.  
"It's been weird today," Chrys said by way of explanation. Harry nodded, going onto say that everyone thought they were special, but they didn't know anything about magic…he couldn't live up to their expectations. He was famous, but he couldn't remember the act that made him famous. He couldn't remember the night their parents died.  
Hagrid moved closer to them, smiling in a tenderly sympathetic way. Though his appearance was wild, and larger than life, Hagrid was the kindest person she had ever met. Not that she had much to compare him to but…  
Hagrid told them not to worry. Everyone in his year was just starting off. Everyone loved Hogwarts, including him. He still loved Hogwarts. And sure the twins are a bit different, and it's hard to feel separate from the crowd, but Hagrid was confident that they would do just fine. More than fine actually, he thought they would do great.  
Chrys wiped her eyes on her newly bequeathed handkerchief. Harry bumped her shoulder teasingly, but she noticed he also looked a bit emotional.  
She dug into her food with renewed vigor, and soon it was time to board the train.  
Chrys read the map, making sure she knew the route back. Hagrid handed Harry an envelope.  
“Two tickets fer Hogwarts," he told them. They were to be used on the first of September, at King's Cross. If the Dursleys gave them problems, the twins should contact him. Their owl would find him. Hagrid said goodbye, and looked pleasantly surprised when Chrys gave him a quick hug before hopping onto the train. Harry followed and the doors shut. The train started to pull out of the station. Harry raised his hand to wave to Hagrid but…  
"He's gone, just like that."  
Chrys balanced her packages more steadily against her hip. "Such a curious ending to a curious day."


	5. Of Sweets and Meets

"This is so not fun," Chrys said with a sigh. Harry poked his head down from the top bunk.

"You can say that again." For the past month the twins had stuck mostly to their new bedroom. Once more they were alone. Even the Dursleys' minimalist company was gone. Dudley was terrified that the twins were going to rain magical fury down on him, so he stayed out of their way. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon took another approach, ignoring the twins completely, as if they simply didn't exist. It was a safer sort of atmosphere in Number 4 Privet Drive, but nonetheless boring.

"This is so not fun," Chrys repeated.

"…At least we've got Hedwig," Harry said, gazing down at the owl perched on Dudley's unused desk.

"Yes, definitely." Chrys beamed at Hedwig. "I still say it's a weird name though." Harry had found the name in one of their course books, _A History of Magic_. Harry had stayed up all night to read it. Chrys preferred fiction. She'd cracked open Dudley's set of _Sherlock Holmes_ books, and made her way through them like they were a pile of licorice.

"It was an interesting book and an interesting name." Harry shrugged. "Besides, she likes it."

"She's being diplomatic," Chrys argued. "Because she likes you for some reason. Really though, it's not a good name. I feel sorry for your future children."

"Oh ha, ha." Harry rolled over in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"She deserves a more majestic name," Chrys continued, having nothing better to do. "Have you seen the way she swoops in and out of the window? It's beautiful."

"You're becoming obsessive," Harry warned her.

"No."

"How many sketches of her have you done by now?"

She'd found a notebook among Dudley's broken things and had since filled the pages with drawings of Hagrid, goblins, and magic. More often than not she ended up studying Hedwig and trying to translate her awesomeness onto the page. The feathers, movement, and expressions were difficult to get right, but when she managed it she felt quite proud of herself.

"An uncountable amount," Chrys admitted. "Okay, maybe I'm just a _little_ obsessed. I like having a pet though…even if she does drop dead mice everywhere."

"Yeah…good thing Aunt Petunia hasn't come in here to clean, she'd have a fit."

"Well soon we won't have to worry about that anymore. How many days until we escape this prison?" Chrys asked. She'd drawn out a calendar. Harry was in charge of ticking off the days.

"Two more…huh… maybe tomorrow we should try talking Uncle Vernon into driving us to King's Cross. Otherwise we'll have to put some money together…and I'm pretty sure we can't pay for a cab with golden galleons."

"Too right you are…okay, let's give it a shot."

The next day Harry stood behind Uncle Vernon and loudly cleared his throat. Dudley squealed (how apt) and ran out of the room. Uncle Vernon pretended he couldn't hear anything. So Harry and Chrys stood directly in front of Uncle Vernon, blocking his view of the television. Harry went on to say that they needed a lift tomorrow, to get to King's Cross Station, so they could go to school. Uncle Vernon responded solely in grunts.

"Does that mean a yes?" Chrys whispered to Harry.

"I suppose so," Harry decided warily. "Er, thank you Uncle Vernon." The two of them turned to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon suddenly spoke up.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train," he thought. "Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?" _That_ was the first thing he said to them in days? That didn't even make any sense. Chrys had never seen a magic carpet before (if they existed), but she figured they would probably be less like a balloon and more like, well, a carpet. With most people Chrys might've have laughed to be polite. With Uncle Vernon she'd given up on that ages ago. "Where is this school anyway?"

Harry blinked. "I don't know." He looked at Chrys. She pulled one of the tickets out of her pocket. It read: _Platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock_. Harry told Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia, who had still been feigning deafness, twitched in reaction to this. Uncle Vernon stared at him.

Uncle Vernon told them that was rubbish, there was no such thing as platform nine and three quarters.

"That's what's on our tickets," Chrys told him. Aunt Petunia sniffed in her usual disapproving sort of way. Uncle Vernon shook his head, telling them it was mad, but he'd take them to King's Cross anyway. He was going to be in London tomorrow, so he might as well. Harry conversationally asked why Uncle Vernon was going to London. Uncle Vernon grumbled that he was taking Dudley to the hospital to get the stupid tail removed before school started.

 _Now_ Chrys laughed. Uncle Vernon glared.

Chrys woke up to the noise of creaking bed springs above her. She leaned over and peered blearily at the repaired alarm clock. She cursed.

"Harry! It's only five o'clock, stop bouncing around and go to sleep."

"Can't, too excited," Harry replied shortly. Chrys sighed.

"I'm usually the one with sleeping problems," she mumbled. "Fine." She groped for her glasses and put them on. "We might as well get dressed and double check our luggage."

"Great!" Harry sprung off his bed and started throwing clothes up into the air, searching for something to wear. "Do you think I should go with robes? Probably not, right? The robes would look strange on the platform and we'll probably have time to change on the train…right? But what if we don't?"

"Who gave you coffee?" Chrys shook her head, and laid out floral patterned trousers that must have been from Aunt Petunia's university days.

"No one…but I could make some—"

"Please don't, or I'll start making puns," she threatened.

"Oh, okay." Harry grabbed a pair of jeans and tiptoed out of the room. When he came back Chrys was dressed and going through her list once more.

"I've got all my books packed," she said, feeling accomplished. "What about you?"

"Me too." Harry nodded. "Though it can't hurt to check one more time."

For the next two hours Harry paced back and forth. Chrys chatted with Hedwig as they waited for the Dursleys to wake up. Then they packed up the car while Uncle Vernon sat in the driver's seat, tapping his foot. It was proving difficult to convince Dudley to get into the car with the twins. Aunt Petunia was trying her best with all matter of bribery and coaxing. Finally Chrys, worried that they would be late, strode up to Dudley, looked him straight in the eye and promised to do him no harm.

"And unlike some people," she quirked an eyebrow at him. " _I_ keep my promises." Aunt Petunia glared and handed Dudley a bag of sweets for good measure. Dudley reluctantly got into the car, clutching the bag in front of him like a shield. "Is that licorice I smell?" Chrys asked casually after they had been driving for some while. Dudley fidgeted uncomfortably and then thrust the bag at her. Chrys took a large handful of her favorite candy and handed the bag back to him. "Good boy," she said quietly so that her aunt and uncle couldn't hear. Dudley frowned. Harry sniggered.

They got to the station with half an hour to spare, though Chrys wasn't sure that would be enough. Uncle Vernon rushed them out of the car and helped them drag their stuff over to the platform. Harry opened his mouth, probably about to thank him, when Chrys suddenly grabbed his arm and gestured up above them. There was a sign for platform nine, and on the other side a sign for platform ten…but nowhere in sight was there a platform nine and three-quarters.

Uncle Vernon said as much, grinning evilly, joking that they must not have built it yet. He wished them a good term, his smile growing even darker as he got back into the car, shutting the door and driving away. The entire family was laughing nastily. The twins watched them sadly. Harry licked his lips nervously. Chrys shrunk closer to him as people stared. Of course they would stare, they did have a caged owl strapped to their luggage.

"Maybe we should ask someone," Harry suggested. Chrys gave him a noncommittal shrug.

"There's a guard over there. Though my bet is he'll just laugh even harder than the Dursleys," she said bitterly.

"Right well…we've got to start somewhere." Harry stepped up to the guard. "Um, sorry…I mean, hi…ah…do you happen to know which platform the train bound for Hogwarts is leaving from?" Chrys noted that he didn't mention anything about platform nine and three-quarters. In her opinion it was a smart move.

"Hogwarts? What's that? Never heard of it," the guard said frowning at the twins, clearly wondering if they were pulling his leg.

"Um, it's a school," Harry told him.

"Never heard of it," the guard repeated. "But okay, where is this school located? What part of the country?"

"Ah…" Harry turned to Chrys, silently asking for help.

"We don't know," Chrys answered through gritted teeth. The guard's annoyance was mounting.

"Well then, how am I supposed to help you find your train?" Clearly he thought they lacked common sense.

"Well what about a train leaving at eleven then?" Harry asked, as a last ditch effort.

"There isn't one," the guard said firmly. "Now if you'll stop wasting my time there are people in this station who actually need my help…" With that he stomped away from them muttering, "Stupid kids, stupid time wasters."

"What now?" Harry said. His eyebrows knitted together as he glanced around frantically.

"Calm down Harry," Chrys said, trying to take her own advice. She took a couple of deep breaths, planing their next move.

"Calm down?" Harry started pacing again. "We're stranded in the middle of London, with two heavy trunks, lots of money we can't use, and very suspicious owl. How am I supposed to stay calm?"

"You know, you're supposed to be the one who keeps his head in a crises," Chrys reminded him. "Would it help if I started freaking out too? What if I mentioned that we only have ten minutes left before our train leaves?" She gestured up the station clock. Harry gulped.

"Okay, okay…" He pressed his hand up against the pocket where Chrys knew he'd stashed his wand. "Maybe Hagrid forgot to tell us the trick for getting to the platform. Maybe it's like Diagon Alley and we have to tap a wall to get in…I could try the ticket stand, it's sort of in-between platforms nine and ten."

"Or…" Chrys started, remembering Harry's tendency towards spectacularly failing ideas. Suddenly Harry froze and staring at the large group of ginger people passing in front of them. There was one rotund woman, holding a little girl's hand, followed by four ginger boys pushing carts of their own.

"She said something about muggles, let's follow them!" Harry hissed quietly, clutching his trunk and wheeling after them. Chrys closed her eyes for a second and then opened them, following after her twin and deciding to trust his judgment.

Luckily, Harry's rashness proved warranted. The daughter, who was evidently named Ginny, excitedly mentioned Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Ginny wanted to go to Hogwarts, but her mother said she was too young. Instead the mum turned to the oldest looking boy, called Percy, and told him to go first. Percy strutted up to the dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten. The twins watched his progress carefully. Unfortunately their viewpoint was swiftly blocked by a large flow of tourists, and when the way had cleared, Percy the strutting ginger was nowhere to be seen.

Harry frowned, looking to the rest of the family.

"Fred, you're next," the mother said to one of the ginger twins.

"I'm not Fred," the twin protested. "I'm George. Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?"

"Sorry, George dear," the mother corrected herself. The twin grinned.

"Only joking, I am Fred."

Chrys laughed quietly. It was the sort of joke she would've liked to play had she and Harry looked more alike.

"Hurry up," George told him. Quick as a blink both Fred and George disappeared somewhere towards the barrier.

"Did you see what happened?" Chrys whispered. Harry shook his head. He grabbed Chrys' hand, pulling her forward.

"We might not get another chance," he said, before gazing imploringly at the ginger matriarch. "Excuse me..."

"Hello, dear," the woman said kindly. And she must have read something in their faces. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new too." She nodded at her last son, who looked like the youngest. Ron was awkwardly tall, with big puppy-like hands and feet, and a smatter of freckles across his long nose.

"Yes..." Harry said slowly. "The thing... the thing is..."

"We've got no clue how to get into the platform," Chrys finished for him. She held her head up high, daring the woman to call them stupid, but she didn't.

The woman just smiled at them kindly. "Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms Nine and Ten." Chrys wanted to say, 'oh, is that all?' but she kept her mouth shut. "Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it--that's very important." Harry and Chrys exchanged a nervous look. "Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on now, before Ron."

"Er, okay."

"Thanks for your help," Chrys said, hoping following her advice wouldn't end up with her face slammed into a brick wall.

Harry gave her an encouraging look and they were off. They moved briskly towards the brick wall. Chrys did not like the idea of crashing, making a big mess and getting into trouble. If she was going to get into trouble she wanted it to be the fun sort of trouble, not the painful kind. Harry built up speed, breaking into a run as they got closer. Chrys mimicked him and closed her eyes as her the momentum pushed her forward.

Then she heard Harry laugh. She opened her eyes and saw a bright red locomotive, pumping steam onto the secret platform. A sign above the train identified it as the _Hogwarts Express_ ready for departure at eleven o'clock. "Thank goodness," she sighed. Harry tapped her on the shoulder and gestured behind them. Where the barrier had been there was now another sign that said _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_.

"We did it." Harry beamed. Chrys looked around at the massive, noisy crowd. Students in robes were all ready packed into the train, waving down at their families, and fighting over compartments. Harry pushed his cart along the platform, searching for an open spot. Chrys was people watching. There was a round-faced boy who dejectedly told his grandmother that he'd lost his toad…again. A boy named Lee held up a box, surrounded by a curious crowd. Chrys leaned forward as the lid came off and a hairy leg peeped out. The crowd yelped and drew back.

Harry tugged her over to the back of the train. "Found an empty compartment," he said proudly. He lifted Hedwig's cage up first, carefully placing her inside the train. Then he got to work on lifting his trunk. It was too heavy and came down hard on his foot. "Terrific," Harry muttered. Chrys coughed, trying not to feel too amused.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the ginger twins from earlier.

"Yes, please," Harry said, still a bit short of breath.

"Oi, Fred! Come here and help!"

Together the four of them managed to tuck the two trunks up into the compartment.

"Thanks," Harry said, wiping his sweaty fringe out of his face. 

"What's that?" One of the ginger twins pointed at his forehead. "Blimey."

"Aren't you--?"

"Then you must be..." Fred and George looked from Harry to Chrys. Chrys paused for a minute and then shrugged, moving her hair aside to show them her matching scar.

"The Potter twins!" The ginger twins said together.

"Oh them," Harry said. Chrys snickered and elbowed him. "I mean, us. Yeah, we are." The ginger twins stared openly. Harry's skin flushed darker.

"He's a little shy," Chrys said with a small smile. Harry shot her a look. One of the ginger twins chuckled in a disbelieving sort of way. Then their mother called for them.

"We're coming, mum," they shouted back impatiently. They continued to gape at Harry and Chrys as they hopped off the train.

"Ugh." Harry let out a breath of relief and went to sit down, leaning back against the seat.

"There they are again," Chrys said with interest. She watched the red-haired family gather together. The mother took out a handkerchief and tried to rub some dirt off of Ron's nose. Ron tried to escape, but his mother's clutch was too tight. She scrubbed at his face as Ron struggled. His brothers teased him, Ron told them to shut up. Then Percy arrived, wearing his robes. He puffed up his chest, drawing attention to the sparkling clean badge pinned on it.

"Can't stay long, mother. I'm up front. The prefects have got two compartments to themselves--"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" One of the twins said in a tone of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on," the other twin said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I think I remember him saying something about it, once--"

"Or twice--"

"A minute--"

"All summer," they finished together. Chrys grinned.

"Oh, shut up," Percy said, looking like he was restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

The mother kissed prideful Percy goodbye before he strode off in annoyance. "Now you two," she said to the twins. "This year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've blown up a toilet--"

"Blown up a toilet?" One of the twins repeated. "We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, mum."

"It's not funny," their mother said. "And look after Ron." The twins pinched Ron's cheeks.

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up." Ron swatted them off.

"Hey, mum," one of the twins said. "Guess who we just met on the train?" Harry leaned further back into his seat, trying to hide in the shadows.

"You know that black-haired boy and the brown-haired girl who were near us in the station? Know who they are?"

"Who?" Ron wondered.

"The Potter twins!"

Ginny squealed. "Oh mum! Can I go on the train and see them? Mum, please..." She bounced on the balls of her feet. Harry grimaced.

"You've already seen them, Ginny," her mother said. "And the poor children aren't something you goggle at in a zoo." Harry nodded appreciatively. Chrys was momentarily distracted by thoughts of what a magical zoo would look like--would they have dragons? Maybe Hagrid could take her one time. The red-haired woman turned her twin sons again. "Are they really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked them," Fred said. "Saw his scar, and then she showed us hers. It's really like lightning..." Chrys traced her scar as Harry squirmed in his seat.

Their mother made a sympathetic noise "Poor dears, no wonder they were alone, I wondered... They were ever so polite when they asked how to get onto the platform."

Fred waved his hand. "Never mind that. Do you think they remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Chrys frowned. Now, that was just rude.

Fortunately, their mother agreed. "I forbide you to ask them, Fred," she said sharply. Fred opened his mouth. She shook her head. "No, don't you dare. As if they need reminding of that on their first day of school."

'Too late,' Harry mouthed at Chrys.

"Alright." Fred shrugged. "Keep your hair on." The train whistled and their mother hurried them on board.

Her sons let her kiss them goodbye through the window. Their younger sister started to cry.

"Don't, Ginny," Fred said. "We'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" George added.

"George!"

"Only joking, mum."

Chrys laughed silently. The train started to move. Ginny was laughing and crying all at once as she ran after the train, shouting goodbye.

Chrys sighed as the platform and all the people on it disappeared from sight.

"That looked nice," Chrys thought, a little jealous. "Having a family to wave goodbye to."

"Well, I'm not jumping out of the train and waving to you," Harry joked. She snorted. He kicked her foot lightly. "And you can't expect the Dursleys to cry as we leave--unless they're tears of joy." Chrys laughed, and Harry grinned. "Anyway, wherever we're going's got to be loads better than what we're leaving behind."

"You—"

The door slid open. Gangly Ron stood uneasily in the doorway. "Mind if I sit with you?" He asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry and Chrys exchanged a look, and then turned back to Ron and nodded at him.

"Go ahead," Chrys said, motioning at the seat.

Ron sat down silently. For the next couple of minutes he kept glancing at the twins when he thought they wouldn't notice. Chrys found this a bit rude, and was about to point out (somewhat spitefully) that he still had dirt on his nose, when the door opened again and Fred and George stuck their heads into the compartment.

"Hey, Ron," one of them said.

"Listen," said the other. "We're going down the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right." Ron shuddered.

"Harry," said probably Fred.

"And…Chrysanthemum?" Added possibly George. His tongue curled over her name in awkward exaggeration.

"That's quite a mouthful," Fred said with a grin.

"I know. I prefer Chrys."

"Well, Harry and Chrysanthemum then," Fred decided. Chrys eyed him blankly. "We're Fred and George Weasley and that's Ron, our little brother. See you around." They clicked the door shut behind them.

"Bye," Harry, Chrys and Ron said unanimously. They looked at each other in amusement.

"Are you two really the Potter twins?" Ron blurted out. Harry and Chrys nodded. "Oh. Well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. Have you really got, you know..." He gestured at Harry's head.

"Yep," Chrys said, showing him. Ron gaped and then looked at Harry, who sighed and showed him.

"So, that's where You-Know-Who--"

"Yep," Chrys said again, sharply. "Supposedly."

"We can't remember it," Harry added.

"Nothing?" Ron pressed. Chrys frowned at him.

"Well..." Harry said slowly. "There was a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow." Ron stared at him, and then blushed slightly, turning towards the window.

"Are all your family wizards?" Harry asked, curious.

"Er, yes, I think so," Ron said. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"Why not?" Chrys wondered. Ron shrugged.

"Dunno."

"But, you must know loads of magic already," Harry figured.

"...I heard you went to live with muggles," Ron deflected. "What are they like?"

"Bleh." Chrys made a face.

Ron's brow furrowed. "That bad?"

"Not all muggles, just our aunt and uncle and cousin," Harry said. "Wish I had three wizard brothers."

"And what am I?" Chrys said. "Chopped liver?" Harry shrugged.

Ron laughed a little. "Sisters are alright," he thought. "I've only got one of those..." His face fell. "I've got five brothers. I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to." Bill and Charlie had already graduated, and had been Head Boy and Quidditch Captain in their day. "Now Percy's prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks, and everyone thinks they're really funny." He shook his head. "Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat." He pulled a fat grey rat out of his jacket pocket. Chrys leaned in. It appeared to be sleeping. "His name is Scabbers and he's useless. He hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff--" Ron's ears turned pink. "I mean, I got Scabbers instead." He tensed.

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, we know how that is," he said, motioning at Chrys and himself. "We never had any money of our own, until last month. All our clothes are hand-me-downs too." Ron blinked in surprise.

Chrys looked him over. "And at least your brothers seem like they have decent taste--my aunt is awfully fond of lace." She shuddered. Ron's shoulders seemed to relax a little.

"And we never had proper birthday presents until this year either," Harry continued. "And until Hagrid told us, we didn't know anything about wizards, or our parents, or Voldemort--" Ron gasped. "What?"

"You said You-Know-Who's name! I'd have thought you, of all people..."

Harry frowned. "I'm not trying to be brave, or anything, saying the name. I just never knew I shouldn't." He sighed. "See what I mean? I've got loads to learn. I bet... I bet I'm the worst in class." Chrys patted him on the shoulder.

"You won't," Ron assured him. "There's loads of people who come from muggle families, and they learn quick enough." Chrys smiled at him. Then she glanced out the window, at the fields rushing past.

"Ooh cows!"

"What's so exciting about cows?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Something to draw," Chrys said, tapping her nose. Ron turned to Harry for an explanation.

"Chrys sketches," Harry told him. "A lot."

She pulled out her sketchbook and opened to some of her older drawings. "Want a look?" She offered to Ron.

"Um, sure…" Ron blinked in recognition at some of the goblin sketches. "That's quite like them! My brother Bill works with goblins you know, in Egypt. He's gotten used to them, but I still think they're a bit creepy."

Harry leaned back sleepily, probably regretting waking up so early. Just as he might have started to fall asleep, a kindly woman opened the door asked if they'd like anything off the food trolley.

"Definitely!" Harry said, suddenly very alert. He popped up and went to take a look. Chrys saw Ron's ears turn pink again.

"I'm okay, I've got…sandwiches," he mumbled, staring at his lap.

"Chrys come see!"

"What?" She asked, walking to him. "Have you wasted all your money on Mars Bars? Because I am not dipping into my sav…" She trailed off as she caught sight of the trolley's contents. "Oh wow!" There were all sorts of sweets she'd never heard of before, though the most interesting one was without a doubt the Licorice Wands. "I'll have a large amount of those please," she said, pointing excitedly.

"And I'll have a bit of everything," Harry decided, throwing caution to the wind. Chrys wondered if she should tell him to curb his spending but…

"Well it's not like a golden cauldron, plus we haven't had breakfast," she mumbled. "So, why not?" The twins came back in, grinning ear to ear. Harry's arms were stuffed, as were Chrys' cheeks. Ron's eyes widened as he saw all of Harry's purchases. Harry dumped the food onto the seats.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starved," Harry replied. Chrys privately thought they'd had much worse. She swallowed her mouthful of licorice and stole a piece of the pasty he was eating.

"Pumpkin-y," she pronounced, concluding that she preferred the Licorice Wands. Ron sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out four neatly wrapped sandwiches. Chrys sniffed. "Corned beef?" she asked. Ron nodded.

"Mum always forgets I don't like corned beef--It's Percy's favorite. She mixes things up sometimes," he explained dully.

Harry picked up another pasty and held it out to him. "Swap you for one of these," he offered. Ron frowned. Harry waved it in front of him. "Go on-"

"You don't want this," Ron said, nearly squashing the sandwhich in his fist. "It's all dry--" He sat up straighter, his tone defensive. "She hasn't got the time, you know, with five of us."

"Go on," Harry said, tossing the pasty at him. Ron caught it.

"You'd better eat some of it before he gives himself a stomach ache," Chrys said diplomatically. Ron scratched his nose and unwrapped the pasty.

Pretty soon the compartment was all smiles. The boys steadily ate their way through Harry's snacks, while Chrys alternated between Ron's sandwiches and her licorice. There was a brief upset when Harry found the bunch of chocolate frogs at the bottom of his sweets pile. He was somewhat worried they might be real frogs. Ron assured him that they weren't, and that they came with collectable cards. Harry got a Dumbledore card and leaned over to show it to Chrys. She was curious to learn about the headmaster who Hagrid respected so much. She understood little of what was written on the card, but it did sound impressive.

"When I'm old I might get glasses like his," she commented, flipping it over to get another look. Harry and Chrys stared at the blank card.

"He's gone!" Harry said.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," Ron said, unbothered. "He'll be back." He frowned at his card. "No, I've got Morgana again, and I've got about six of her." He held it out to Harry. "Want it? You can start collecting..." He eyed the rest of the Chocolate Frogs.

"Help yourself," Harry said, waving his hand. "But, you know, in the muggle world people just stay put in photos."

Ron's eyes widened. "Do they? What, they don't move at all?"

"Well, we have got films and TV and stuff," Chrys said thoughtfully. "I think they used to be called moving pictures, but that's just a story playing out. People in wizarding pictures move around as they like?"

"Well, yeah," Ron said.

"Weird," Chrys thought.

"Right," Ron said, clearly thinking what she said was weirder.

"It think I'll start collecting," Harry said, still absorbed by the cards. He now had a handful of different ones.

"Suit yourself," Chrys said with a shrug, digging through the rest of the sweets (she was saving the remains of her licorice of a rainy day). She picked up a bag of something called Bertie's Bots Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned her as she opened it. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor. You know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach, liver, and tripe. George swears he got a boggey flavored one once." He picked up a green colored bean and nibbled tentatively at it. "Blegh. See? Sprouts."

Chrys pushed the bag over to Harry choosing to go back to her sketches instead. She was having trouble drawing the scenery as it blurred from the speed. As far as she could tell they  past a forest, following the curves of a river between large grassy hills.

Meanwhile the boys were having a fun time challenging each other to eat different flavored beans.

"I'm telling you, Harry, I'm not going anywhere near that funny grey one," Ron argued.

"I'll take the chance. How do you know unless you've tried?" He took a teeny bite and chewed slowly.

"Well?" Ron asked, studying his face.

"Pepper." Harry sneezed.

"Ah, well. Could've been worse."

"Chrys, why don't you try one?" Harry urged her, kicking her foot again.

"Not a chance," Chrys told him, relieved when distraction came in the form of a knock on the door.

An anxious boy entered the compartment. Chrys remembered him as Neville, whose toad was lost. Sure enough, he asked them if they'd seen his pet. Ron, Harry and Chrys shook their heads. Neville squeezed his eyes shut, looking about ready to cry.

"He'll turn up," Harry said encouragingly.

"Yes..." Neville said sadly. "Well, if you see him..." He trudged away.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron thought. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." Chrys could swear that the rat had started to snore. Ron looked down at him, unimpressed. "He might've died and you wouldn't know the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday, to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..." He pulled his wand out of his trunk. It was chipped at the end. Ron's ears turned pink again. "Unicorn hair's nearly poking out..." He shook his head. "Anyway-" He raised his wand.

The door opened.

Neville was back, this time with a determined looking bushy-haired girl.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" The new girl asked. "Neville's lost one."

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron said. Neville smiled apologetically, trying to turn away. However, the girl had caught sight of Ron's wand.

"Oh! Are you doing magic? Let's see it then."

She sat down at Ron's side, staring at him. Ron stared back at her.

"Er... alright." He cleared his throat. " _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"_ He waved his wand.

Nothing happened.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" The girl wondered. Ron opened his mouth. "Well, it's not very good, is it?" Ron frowned. "I've tried a few simple spells for practice, and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all. It was ever such a surprise when I got my letter--" Chrys nodded. "--But I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is--" Chrys looked questioningly at Ron, who shrugged. "--I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course--" Harry looked worriedly at Ron, who was staring at the girl like she was some kind of alien. "--I just hope it's enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Chrys was somewhat impressed that she'd said this without stopping for a breath. Harry and Ron looked a bit dazed.

"…Hermione, that's from _A Winter's Tale_ , right?" Chrys asked, trying to turn the monologue into something more balanced.

"Yes, that's my mother's favorite play," Hermione said, sounding delighted Chrys had recognized it. "Do you read much Shakespeare?" Ron shot Harry a confused looked. Harry mouthed 'tell you later' to him.

"Not really." Chrys shook her head. "Only _A Winter's Tale_ and _The Tempest_. I mostly get books from the library, but Shakespeare's too difficult to read when I'm not allowed to check anything out…" Hermione beamed at the word 'library' though she frowned at the second part of the sentence.

"Why aren't you allowed to check out books?"

"...My aunt took my library card away," Chrys said.

"Well," Hermione said, suddenly looking shy. "I did bring some Shakespeare with me, if you wanted to borrow something..."

"That would be nice," Chrys said. Harry nudged her. Chrys gave him a questioning glance. Harry gestured at Ron who was starting to get grumpy again. Realizing she had been leaving the boys out, she smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, I'm Chrys Potter, this is my brother Harry, and that's Ron Weasley."

"Hello," Ron grunted. Harry gave her a little wave. Hermione's eyes brightened.

"Are you really The Potter Twins?" She asked. Chrys nodded. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History, and The Rise_ and _The Fall of the Dark Arts,_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twelth Century_." Harry's eyes widened.

"Twelth century?" Chrys wondered.

"Wizards measure centuries differently than muggles," Hermione told her knowledgably.

"But, hang on," Chrys said, shaking her head. "We're really mentioned in all of those books?" Hermione blinked.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything, if it were me," she said. Chrys and Harry exchanged a wary look. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor. It sounds by far the best. Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway..." She stood up. "We'd better go and look for Neville's toad." Chrys blinked at the other boy, having forgotten he was even there. He was still hovering awkwardly in the doorway. "You three had better change, you know. I expect we'll be there soon." They left.

"...Shakespeare is famous a muggle author," Harry said after a moment.

"Playwright," Chrys corrected, snatching Ron's chocolate toad and munching on it.

"Whatever." Ron shrugged. "I just hope whatever house she's in, I'm not." He tossed his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell--George gave it to me, bet he knew it was dud."

"Or he made it up himself," Chrys suggested, thinking of what she'd seen of Ron's brothers so far. Ron nodded.

"Good point."

"What house are your brothers in?" Harry asked.

"Gryffindor." Ron sighed. "Mum and dad were in it too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin." He made a face.

"That's the house Vold--I mean, You-Know-Who was in, right?" Harry said.

"Yeah." Ron sighed again.

"You know, I think the end of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," Harry said kindly. Ron shrugged. "So... what do your older brothers do, now they've left?"

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons--"

"Dragons!" Chrys said excitedly. Harry looked at her in amusement.

"--And Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," Ron continued. He got a thoughtful look on his face. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the muggles--someone tried to rob a high security vault."

"Really?" Harry said. "What happened to them?"

"Nothing," Ron said. "That's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught." Chrys titled her head.

"I thought there were all sorts of powerful enchantments and stuff protecting Gringotts? And rumors of a dragon... What does Charlie do with dragons?"

"He's a dragon keeper, so, he like... looks after them, and stuff." Ron shrugged. "Anyway, there _are_ enchantments, and dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get around them, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens, in case You-Know-Who was behind it." Chrys gripped her chocolate frog so tightly its eyes bulged out. Ron cleared his throat. "What's your Quidditch team?" He asked Harry.

"Er, I don't know any," Harry told him apologetically. Ron stared.

"What! Oh you wait, it's the best game in the world!"

Chrys spaced out as Ron explained all the rules to Harry. She read through some of the chocolate frog cards. The Circe card was particularly engrossing. It looked like some of the myths she liked to read about had actually been real, in one way or another.

Then the door slid open with a sharp thud.

Ron was cut off mid-sentence.

Three boys entered confidently as if they owned the place.

Harry and Chrys exchanged a look, recognizing the smaller one in the middle. It was the snooty blonde kid from Madam Malkin's.

"I heard the Potter Twins were on the train..." Blondie looked back and forth between Harry and Chrys, a calculative smile slipping onto his lips. "So, it's you two, is it?"

"Yes," Harry and Chrys answered reluctantly. Harry sized up the two bulky boys who stood on either side of him. Chrys tried not to be judgmental, but their build was the same as Dudley and his violence loving friends.

The blonde followed their gaze. "Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." He gestured at them. "And my name's Malfoy..." He puffed his chest out. "Draco Malfoy." Ron snorted. Malfoy stood immaculately straight, as if his spine was pulled upward by a wire. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Ron flushed an angry pink. Chrys frowned. Malfoy turned to Harry. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held his hand out. 

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry said coolly. Chrys grinned. Malfoy blushed ever so slightly.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents."

"I'll teach _you_ some manners," Chrys growled, standing up and lunging at him. Malfoy blinked as Harry held her back.

"Your parents didn't know what was good for them. You hang out with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Ron stood up too. "Say that again," Ron dared him, his entire face bright red.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"

"Unless you get out now," Harry said. He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle again.

Malfoy looked at them as well. "But, we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food, and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached over to the snacks. Ron tried to intercept him, but there was no need. Scabbers suddenly chomped down on the bully's hand. Goyle screamed, falling backwards. Malfoy and Crabbe scampered away as Goyle danced around the room, trying to get rid of Scabbers. Eventually Scabbers was flung off, slapping against the window and Goyle raced after his friends, knocking down the rest of the snacks in his haste.

Chrys peeled Scabbers off the window and silently handed him to Ron.

Of course, that was the exact moment Hermione Granger returned. She looked around the room as Harry started picking up the snacks, and Ron poked at Scabbers.

"...What's going on?"

"Hello, Hermione," Chrys said cheerfully.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said. "No... I don't believe it! He's gone back to sleep." Chrys laughed. Ron looked at her. "You met Malfoy before?"

"We were in Diagon Alley..." Chrys started.

"...In Madam Malkin's, and he was getting his robes fitted at the same time as me. He said some rude things," Harry continued.

"And he had an awful sneer so I stuck my tongue out at him," Chrys finished. Ron nodded approvingly.

"I've heard of his family. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disapeared." Apparently, Malfoy's dad claimed he'd been bewitched, but Ron's dad didn't believe that for a second. The Malfoys were definitely the sort to follow willingly. Hermione cleared her throat. Ron rolled his eyes. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron corrected her. Chrys nodded.

"He's got a point."

"And if you want us to change, you should leave," Ron continued.

"Alright. I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors." Hermione sniffed. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" She turned and left.

"What's her problem?" Ron wondered, glaring after her.

"I think she only wanted to help," Chrys replied, worried they'd hurt her feelings. "You could be a nicer."

"I'll be nice when she stops being irritating," Ron argued. Chrys looked at Harry for support. Harry raised his hands, silently saying he was going to keep out of this. Chrys frowned, rummaging through her bag, pulling out her robes and flinging the door open.

"I'm going to change and look for Hermione," she told Harry.

"Er, okay…come back quickly," he said quietly, watching her leave.

Unfortunately the train was large enough that Chrys got lost almost immediately. The conductor's voice projected through the halls, announcing that they would arrive at Hogwarts shortly, and not to worry about their luggage. Chrys frowned. There was no sight of Hermione, or the girls' bathroom anywhere. Finally she (literally) ran into yet another set of twins--these two were identical like Fred and George, but girls this time, with smooth black hair done back in plaits.

"Sorry about that," Chrys apologized.

"It's fine." One of the twins shrugged.

"Are you looking for the bathroom?" The other wondered, noticing Chrys was carrying her robes. "It's just through that door."

"Thank you." Chrys rushed inside, nearly knocking into yet another girl.

"Watch where you're going… please."

"Yeah, I will," Chrys said tiredly.

The girl huffed and went on combing some fruity-smelling oil into her hair.

Chrys struggled with her robes, getting tangled up in the sleeves.

"Need some help?" The girl in the bathroom asked, finally tucking her comb into a little purse.

"Yeah thanks a ton, that'd be great," Chrys said honestly.

"I'm Lavender Brown," the girl introduced herself, as she straightened Chrys out.

"Chrys Potter," Chrys returned. Lavender blinked.

"Chrysanthemum Potter," she repeated. "Are you really?"  Chrys nodded and sighed. She gaped. "Wow… I guess that's why you didn't know how to put on robes, because you've been raised by muggles?" Chrys nodded again, wondering exactly how much of her past was open to the public. Lavender looked like she had more questions, but the twin girls from the hallway peeked into the bathroom, their braids swinging identically.

"Hey Lav, what's taking you so long?" One asked.

"Probably her hair," the other answered, laughing.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "No, Padma, I was just helping out Chrys Potter."

"Oh…I suspected you might be a Potter twin." The sisters stepped inside. "I'm Padma Patil."

"And I'm Parvati." She smiled brightly. "It's nice to see Lavender make a new friend." Chrys blinked in surprise. Had she really made a friend so easily?

"Her scatterbrained facade normally scares people away," Padma said bluntly.

"Padma!" Lavender and Parvati chided in unison. Chrys laughed. The other three blinked in surprise, and they all smiled at each other.

The train slowed and came to a halt. Chrys' eyes widened.

"Uh-oh, I've got to get back to Harry."

"Harry Potter? Ooh, what does he look like? Is he attractive?" Lavender clasped her hands together.

"Well he's my brother so…"

Parvati and Lavender giggled. "It'll be easier to met up with him outside the train," Padma suggested, rolling her eyes. "Otherwise it will be difficult to navigate through the crowd."

The four girls left together, and Chrys immediately understood what Padma meant. They barely had to move because the people around them were pushing and shoving them forward. Students poured out of the train like a mass of busy ants.

Chrys grew more and more nervous as they shuffled along a dirt path. She relaxed slightly when she spotted Hagrid's large form at the head of the group. He held a bright lantern in his hands, casting light onto a familiar tall ginger. Chrys figured that Harry was next to Ron, only he was too short to be seen through the crowd. She stood on tip-toe but still couldn't catch sight of him. She waved her arms and shouted, trying to get Ron or Hagrid's attention. A few first years gave her odd looks. Lavender took a step away, looking embarrassed. So much for being friends.

"Hey, hey, Hagrid!" Chrys shouted a bit louder, and was rewarded with a wave.

"Chrys." He nodded. He waved at the road. "Yeh'll get yer first sight o' Hogwarts in a sec. Just round the bend here."

It was nighttime by now, and as they came into the clearing Chrys saw the stars reflecting glitteringly on a large black lake. It was as if they sky had come down and spread itself in front of them. Parvati smiled in appreciation.

Beyond the lake sat an elaborate castle that stretched out along the hills, a remnant of ancient days. The first years gasped at the beautiful sight, nudging each other and leaning around to get a better look. There was a line of boats set up along the shore. Hagrid told them to get in (four people per boat) so they could be on their way.

As the crowd finally dispersed, Chrys was able to make her way through to Ron. Harry was standing next to him, in front of a boat, which Neville and Hermione were all ready sitting in.

"Chrys…" Harry said in exasperation as she rushed up and hugged him.

"Sorry for worrying you," she said genuinely. "I got a bit turned around."

"He would've moved against the crowd and gotten himself trampled, but Hagrid mentioned you looked like you were doing just fine," Ron informed her, sounding amused.

"Just be more careful next time," Harry told her.

"Yeah, because you're _so cautious_ ," she said laughing. Harry continued to stare at her so she waved her hand in agreement. "Fine, fine…just get in the boat."

"Right," Harry climbed in and looked up at her expectantly, but Hermione studiously reminded them,

"Only four people per boat."

Ron glared, and both Harry and Neville made to get out of the boat. "Um, I can move if you want to sit with your brother…" Neville said hesitantly. Chrys shook her head.

"Thanks Neville, but there's no need. Harry, I'll just go in that boat over there," she said, motioning to where Parvati, Padma and Lavender were watching her curiously. "And see you on the other side, 'kay?" Harry agreed rather reluctantly.

"He's a bit skinny," Lavender decided, as Chrys sat next to her.

Hagrid gave a loud shout of 'forward!' and the boats started floating towards the castle.

"Sorry?" Chrys said, confused.

"Your brother," Lavender explained. "He's not bad looking I guess, but he's a bit scrawny and his hair is a complete disaster." She paused. "Well, so is yours though."

"We are twins," Chrys reminded her. "We look alike whether or not it's a good thing."

Parvati and Padma nodded sympathetically.

Hagrid spoke at that moment, telling them all to get their heads down. The girls ducked just in time, as the boats slid past an outcropping of rock, and through some dangling ivy. Chrys heard Lavender gasp as it suddenly went pitch dark… they were going though a tunnel underneath the castle.

"It's all right," Parvati said soothingly, as they came out into the open again. Lavender nodded, smoothing out her robes.

The boats docked and everyone clambered out onto the rocky shore. Chrys waved goodbye to the girls and ran along to meet Harry.

"See, Harry, I managed," she told him proudly. He looked her over, as if he expecting her to be injured in some way. Hagrid came up behind them and passed a grateful Neville his toad.

"Again?" Ron shook his head in disbelief. Neville rubbed his neck sheepishly. Chrys pulled on Hagrid's coat.

"Chrys, nice to see ya'," Hagrid said, giving her a hug that almost knocked the wind out of her.

Then he moved to the front of the group and led them through a second, drier, tunnel. Harry kept his hand on Chrys shoulder the whole time, perhaps worried that they would get separated again.

They came out onto a wide grassy field, just in front of the castle. Hagrid checked one last time to make sure everyone (including Neville's toad) was accounted for, and then moved up the stone staircase, knocking thrice on the heavy looking door.


	6. Of Heads and Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fudged up and posted the wrong chapter last week... in case anyone's read it. It's fixed now.

The door opened a smidge, and out came a women draped in green.

Hagrid addressed her as Professor McGonagall. Chrys remembered that this was the Deputy Headmistress, the author of that final Hogwarts letter. Professor McGonagall was obviously tall, but the intensity of her gaze as she studied them made Chrys feel even smaller. Professor McGonagall thanked Hagrid and the first years followed her quietly into the entrance hall.

"She's not one to be crossed," Harry whispered to Chrys. Harry was usually a pretty good judge of character, so Chrys stood straighter and tried to look as innocent as possible. She was immediately distracted by the grandness of the castle. "You could fit all of Number 4 in here," Harry observed.

"That and more," Chrys agreed. The room was stone and marble, lit by torches, with ceilings higher than the eye could see. The overall look was similar to Gringotts, except the castle light was warm, bright, and welcoming. Professor McGonagall continued across the room, past a set of double doors, with voices buzzing behind it, into smaller chamber down the hall. The students filled in, huddling like penguins, heads jerking around anxiously.

Professor McGonagall greeted them, saying that the start of the year feast was nearly in session, but first they must be sorted into their houses. The Sorting Ceremony was very important, because their houses would be like their family, whom they would room with, eat with, and share a common room with. She listed off the four houses, each of which had a noble past and many accomplished graduates. During the year the students would earn points for their house, in an attempt to win the House Cup. Professor McGonagall hoped they would each make fine contributions to whatever house they joined.

They would wait here for a few minutes, as she prepared the people in the Great Hall to watch them get sorted. She suggested they straighten themselves up before she returned, giving Ron and Neville a pointed look.

She exited the room, leaving the students to chatter nervously.

"Why was she looking at me? What's wrong?" Neville worried. Hermione sighed.

"You're cloak is caught on your ear…here, let me help you." She reached over and fiddled with his cloak while Harry attempted to smooth down his hair.

"Not going to happen Harry. Did you forget the cardinal Potter rule? Our hair does not lie flat," Chrys reminded him. "Also, Ron, I hate to be the one to tell you this…but you _still_ have dirt on your nose." Ron groaned and half-heartedly rubbed his nose. Harry gulped.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" He wondered.

Ron scratched his head. "Some sort of a test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"You _think_..." Chrys said. Harry ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up more than ever. Chrys bumped her side against his. "Listen, I know you're nervous, but you're not the only one." After Hermione fixed Neville's cloak she started to whisper spells under her breath. Chrys made the mistake of asking her what she thought they would have to do.

"There are many spells classified as year one spells, so presumably we could be requested to perform any one of those. Though of course in practice spells are chosen to fit the situation. They could also be looking for the ability to correctly select a relevant spell…"

Chrys decided that ramblings, no matter how logical, were not helpful for calming nerves. "We've done a little magic before," she reminded Harry. He blinked confusedly at her. "I mean, like the stuff Hagrid was talking about…like that time when the teacher was ranting about my hair being too messy and you turned her wig blue, starling her and outing her jealous baldness."

"…I don't think that'd help in this case," Harry replied, though the corners of his lips were twitching. He jumped. "Hang on, what's that!" He gestured above them.

A few of the kids shouted. Chrys couldn't blame them, because a large number of translucent white figures had just glided through the wall. "Ghosts…" Hermione announced in a hushed tone. 

"Forgive and forget, I say," said a round monk. "We ought to give him a second chance--"

"My dear friar," said a ghost who was wearing a ruffly Shakespearean collar. "Haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us a bad name, and you know, he's not even a ghost--" He paused, looking down at the kids. "I say, what are you all doing here?"

"New students!" The friar smiled. "About to be sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded quietly. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

Just then, Professor McGonagall returned, and the ghost hurriedly left.

The students lined up and proceeded into the Great Hall. "My legs feel like lead," Harry whispered.

"Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other," Chrys suggested. Rather than stiff, she was feeling jittery--maybe she shouldn't have had all those sweets. Her fingers drummed anxiously on her sides. She took a deep breath and took in the layout of the room.

They weaved their way past four lengthy tables where the students were seated (along with a few ghosts floating nearby), underneath a blanket of floating candles, and towards a fifth table risen above the rest. There sat the professors. In the middle was Professor Dumbledore, long beard and twinkly-eyed just like in his chocolate frog card picture. Hagrid, who was sitting to the far left, spotted the twins and waved his giant hand, smiling equally largely. Chrys felt a little braver. She stood, single file in the middle of the rest of the first years. Harry stepped lightly on her foot, pointing up at the ceiling. Chrys did a double take, having to reassure herself that bright stars and milky clouds were probably some sort of magic, though they looked so much like the real thing.

"That's amazing," she mumbled. Hermione, quietly responded that the ceiling was magicked to mimic the sky at all moments. Real or not it was astounding now the starlight glint off the golden plates and goblets on the tables. Though the older students appeared used to it all. Instead they focused intently on the shivering first years.

The gaze of the student body shifted, following Professor McGonagall's progress onto the podium as she placed an old hat on top of a rickety stool.

"Maybe we have to pull a rabbit out of it," Harry thought. Chrys wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione hissed, though she also looked uncertain.

The room was overly still and silent. Chrys was fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to resist the urge to shout out random nonsense.

Then someone—or rather some _thing_ broke the tension.

A clear voice rang out across the hall, projecting a song from a tear in the old hat's fast moving brim.

It sang about each of the houses, how Gryffindors were brave, daring and chivalrous, Hufflepuffs were just, loyal, patient, and hardworking, Ravenclaws were clever, and eager to learn, and lastly Slytherins were cunning and ambitious.

_"So put me on,_

_And don't get in a flap._

_You're in safe hands (though I have none),_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_ " It finished. The point of the hat dipped, as if in a bow, and the students burst into applause.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron surmised. "I'll kill Fred. He was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled…but somewhat warily. "What's wrong?" Chrys asked.

"What if I don't fit in any of the houses?" Harry whispered as the applause died down. Chrys patted him on the shoulder, trying to silently communicate that he was being dramatically pessimistic again.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and took out an attendance sheet, telling them to sit on the stool and put on the hat when their name was called.

Hannah Abbott was the first name. The girl was quickly and enthusiastically welcomed into Hufflepuff. Chrys tried to pay attention to the people being sorted, but she was rather distracted by the dejected look on her brother's face. He looked exactly how he always looked when they were picked last for school sports teams. Even though Harry was decent at sports, no one wanted to choose him because if they were caught being nice to the twins, Dudley would punch them in the face. Chrys tried to think positively. She tried to convince herself that this school would be different. Still, what if magic did not yield a magical solution? What if she and Harry were treated the same as always? She was so tired of being ignored…

Chrys shook her head hard. Harry's attitude had started to rub off on her. She came back in focus just in time to see Hermione sorted into Gryffindor. Chrys cheered a bit, glad the girl got what she wanted. Ron grumbled darkly. Chrys pulled some funny faces, hoping to annoy Ron and cheer Harry up with one go. Ron laughed, but Harry was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice. Chrys looked up when she heard Neville's name called.

Neville was so nervous that he tripped and knocked over the stool. It took a while for him to put it upright, get the hat on and finally be sorted. As soon as the hat announced, "Gryffindor!" Neville rushed down to sit with the others, forgetting to take off the hat in his excitement. He quickly brought it back, blushing bright red. Chrys took a deep breath, hoping she could do better than that at least.

Malfoy oozed over-confidence as he walked up and put the hat on. He smirked obviously when the hat took a split second to place him in Slytherin.

Chrys took comfort in the fact that most people seemed to be getting into the house that they wanted. Ron wanted to be in Gryffindor, so Harry would probably aim for that as well. The next few names flew by, Chrys noting with surprise that the Patil twins were sorted into different houses. She crossed her fingers, wishing hard that she and Harry would stick together.

She did not have much time to wish, however—as her turn was next. The crowd gurgled with excitement, wondering where the famous Potter girl would be sorted. Chrys gulped and forced herself to walk forward at a leisurely pace so she wouldn't trip like Neville had. She heard someone complain that she was moving to slowly, so she clenched her jaw and sat down, snatching up the hat and pulling it over her ears.

As soon as it touched her head, it began speaking silently into her mind.

" _How interesting… you are steadfast and fierce with your way of thinking, which can set you apart from others, but you don't mind because you believe you can be better than the rest! You know, Slytherin could give you the power to assert your authority."_

" _Thanks, but no thanks,"_ Chrys thought, grumpily. _"I admit I'm stubborn, but at the moment I'll use every ounce of that stubbornness to go for Gryffindor. I'm sure that's house Harry will get into, and no matter what, I will not be separated from him."_ She could have sworn she heard the stupid hat chuckle.

"Gryffindor!" Came the shouted word.

Chrys let out a sigh proportionate to someone Hagrid's size. She tried to catch Harry's eye as she ran over to sit next to a smiling Hermione. The rest of her new housemates seemed equally ecstatic at her arrival. Parvati waved from across the table, while Percy stood up and bowed awkwardly. Fred and George winked, giving her identical thumbs up. She responded in kind and went back to staring at Harry. It felt like forever before he was sorted. For a terrified moment, Chrys thought she'd guessed wrong and that infuriating hat would place him somewhere else.

Then she joined the rest of the crowd's shouts of glee as he wobbled over in exhaustion, and sat at her side. Percy stood up again and shook his hand, while the Weasley twins cheered. "We've got the Potter twins! We've got the Potters!"

Harry shivered as the Elizabethan ghost floating nearby waved a friendly hand right through him. Hermione shushed him as she turned back to watch the sorting.

"Here's hoping," Harry said, crossing his fingers a few minutes later when it was Ron's turn.

"Poor boy looks ill…" Chrys commented.

He had no reason to be. Ron joined them shortly. Harry clapped so hard that his hands turned pink. Ron beamed and sat at his other side. Chrys and Percy congratulated him while the twins shrugged as if they'd been expecting it all along.

Soon after, the sorting ended and Professor McGonagall cleared the area.

"For some reason I'm starving again," Harry said wonderingly.

"Me too," Ron seconded enthusiastically.

"It's because you're not scared anymore," Chrys said knowingly, as her stomach roared for attention.

Professor Dumbledore stood up. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we began our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" He smiled. "Thank you!" He sat back down.

People clapped appreciatively as Chrys scratched her head in confusion. Then Harry pulled on her sleeve and gestured at the table.

"Wow," they said in unison. The spread of food that appeared in front of them was vast, diverse, and mouth watering. Percy scooped steaming hot potatoes onto Ron, Chrys and Harry's plates. Chrys smiled brightly at him, not used to someone giving her such a big helping. Harry piled a bit of everything on top of his potatoes.

"You've missed the peppermint humbugs," Chrys informed him.

"On purpose," Harry replied. "It's nice to take as much as I like, but also nice to be able to refuse something I don't like."

"Point taken." Chrys nodded.

"Iwll ake um," Ron said through a mouth full of pudding. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"What?" Chrys said.

"I think he said, _I'll take some_ ," Harry translated. She passed them over and then loaded her plate up with a second portion of chicken. "It's all so good," Harry said after a while.

The Elizabethan outfitted ghost sadly agreed that the food did look very good. His head flopped around as he leaned forward. Harry paused for a moment, and dove into a conversation with the ghost. Chrys stabbed at her stake in frustration, unable to make a dent.

"Would you like a hand, Chrysanthemum?" Percy offered. Chrys blinked, surprised at the offer. She nodded. Percy reached over and cut it into bite size pieces.

"Thank you." Chrys chewed appreciatively as she turned back to catch the end of Harry's conversation. The ghost was affronted at the nickname, Nearly Headless Nick, much preferring to be called by his full name of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

"Nearly headless?" A sandy-haired boy chimed in. "How can you be  _nearly_ headless?" Chrys had been wondering much of the same.

Sir Nicolas sighed. "Like this." He promptly ripped his head as casually as one might tip a hat. Their section of the table fell quiet. Hermione looked exactly how Chrys felt—both queasy and intrigued at the same time. Nick tipped his head back into place and cleared his throat... "So, new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without wining. Slytherins have got the Cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable--he's Slytherin's ghost.

Several of the students turned around to look at the Slytherin table. The Bloody Baron was aptly named. Harry nudged Chrys, and pointed to the Malfoy boy was sitting next to his house ghost. Chrys laughed. For the first time since she'd met him, the holier-than-thou look was wiped off of Malfoy's face. The sandy-haired boy, who was proving to be just as curious as Harry, asked Sir Nick how the Bloody Baron died. Sir Nick implied that it was rude to ask. Chrys noticed the violent deaths appeared to be a reoccurring theme amongst the ghosts…she hoped she'd never join them.

"Well I, for once, am stuffed…" Chrys announced, some time later. She gasped happily as the remains disappeared from the plates, leaving them shinny clean. "They appear to be made of solid gold…Want to sneak one up to your dorm?" She teased Harry. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Hermione opened her mouth to protest. "Just a joke Hermione," Chrys explained hurriedly. The pudding appeared next, with just as wide a variety as the meal. Chrys sampled the entire line up, unable to decide what she liked the best.

Her favorite moment however, was the dazzling look on Harry's face when he tried the treacle tart.

"Terrific! I've always wanted to try this," he said, full of childish excitement. Chrys felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

"You've never had treacle tart before?" Ron asked in surprise. Harry shook his head.

"Our aunt and uncle are sort of… er, strict about desserts…I guess…" Harry said awkwardly, rubbing his neck. Chrys frowned, that was putting it lightly. Ron grew quiet, studying Harry pensively. Then he reached over and spooned a huge second serving onto Harry's plate.

"Okay then, have as much as you like," he said easily. Chrys leaned across Harry and gave Ron an awkward one-armed hug. Harry and Ron stared at her.

"What?" She said, daring them to comment.

"Girls are mental…" Ron muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, the sandy-haired boy was chatting about his family. Apparently his mum was a witch, but she hadn't told her muggle husband until after they were married. Several people laughed, but Hermione scowled.

"That could've ended badly," she pointed out, before leaning over to ask Percy a question. Chrys thought she had a point. Ron asked Neville, who was looking a little left out, about his family. Neville said he grew up with his gran who was a witch, but the entire family thought he was non-magical for ages, because he never showed any sign otherwise. His family did all sort of mean things (like nearly drowning him and throwing him out a window) to try to encourage a magical reaction. Eventually it worked and his uncle bought him a congratulatory toad.

"Now that definitely could have ended badly," Chrys said to herself. Neville could have been seriously hurt. Maybe the conversation to her left would be less frustrating. She turned. Percy was amicably telling Hermione about Transfiguration.

"Doesn't it sound fascinating, Chrysanthemum?" Hermione asked, when she noticed Chrys was listening.

"Please, it's Chrys," Chrys corrected her. "And yeah, I guess Transfiguration should be interesting. Though the course book said that a lot of concentration is necessary… and I'm easily distracted, so it might be difficult…"

"The more work you put in, the better it reflects on your marks," Percy promised her. Chrys frowned, it wasn't the marks she was worried about…she was more concerned that her general ability to perform magic might be spotty at best.

"Ooh, we can study together!" Hermione squealed.

"Ah. Alright then," Chrys said. Though she enjoyed reading, and learning random factoids, she'd never taken school very seriously. Because Aunt Petunia got angry when she got higher marks than Dudley, Chrys generally ended up at the bottom of her class. Harry yawned and started to droop onto her shoulder. Chrys tried to keep him awake by pointing out interesting things. "Look, I think Hagrid's getting drunk again," she said. "And I know I'm not the most fashionable person, but what made Professor Quirrell decide to wear that turban, I'll never know. It looks really—ow!" A sharp pain rang through her head as she watched Professor Quirrell talk another teacher with a beak-like nose.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked concernedly. Chrys looked sideways and saw Harry was also clutching his head.

"What is it?" Percy asked. Harry and Chrys exchanged a quick glance.

"Nothing," they said aloud. "We're fine."

"Just a bit of headache," Chrys lied. The pain had come quite suddenly when she and Harry were watching those teachers and, well, she had never been a firm believer of coincidence.

"It must have been all that sugar, you should really watch your intake," Hermione said, motioning at the sticky evidence on Chrys' plate.

"What are you, my doctor?" Chrys joked. Hermione blushed slightly.

"Oh…my parents are dentists, so I just automatically…" She trailed off.

"It's alright, could you please pass me the jug of water?" Chrys said, turning slightly, trying to listen to Harry and Percy's conversation. Percy was telling Harry that the beak nosed teacher was named Snape. Professor Snape taught potions, though apparently he had coveted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, which he had a lot of knowledge of. Hermione poured some water into Chrys' goblet.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sure, thank you. Um, so…how do you plan on studying?" Chrys asked, hoping to distract her. It worked. While Hermione went into depth on study schedules, Chrys whispered secretly with Harry. "So one of the professors had some weird affect on our scars?"

"It's Snape," Harry said, sounding very certain. "I felt it right when our eyes met."

"He didn't look me in the eyes," Chrys pointed out. He shrugged.

"…Maybe you just felt it by association, you know, like a twin thing?"

"Hmm…could be…"

"I'm going to keep an eye on him, just in case it happens again." Harry turned and kept a careful gaze in that direction. "By the way, are you really going to do that much studying?" He added, as Hermione continued.

"I hope not," Chrys mumbled, nodding to make it look like she was listening.

After dessert Harry's vigil was interrupted, as instead he politely watched Dumbledore make another speech. Hermione hushed up immediately and Chrys sighed in relief. That girl had a set of lungs on her.

Dumbledore cheerfully warned them that nearby forest was out of bounds (the Weasley twins got a special glance of amusement). Also, Mr. Flich, the caretaker, wanted everyone to remember that magic was not to be used in the corridors. Quidditch trials were to be held two weeks into term, so people should see Madam Hooch if they were interested in playing for their house team. Chrys shook her head, but Harry's spine straightened in interest. Lastly, _"I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."_

Harry laughed, but most people were whispering worriedly. Harry blinked, asking Percy if Dumbledore had been serious. Percy said he had to be, though he agreed it was a threadbare explination, and the all mighty prefects hadn't been told much either. Chrys shook her head, but agreed that Dumbledore could've been more specific. At any rate, Dumbledore said that it was time for the school song. He raised his wand and out sprung a golden ribbon that spelled the lyrics into the air.

The whole school started singing at different tempos. The song was obvious silliness, though equally spirited. Professor McGonagall froze tight-lipped, but most people appeared to be having fun. Chrys didn't sing (neither of the twins could carry a tune to save their lives), but she did sway enthusiastically, and Hermione looked as if she was fighting a smile. Chrys laughed as the Weasley twins finished alone in a slow mournful tune, which Dumbledore seemed to enjoy very much.  
Chrys thought the headmaster couldn't be that bad if he got so emotional over his pupils' singing. He sniffled, rubbed his eyes and sent them off to bed.

The first year Gryffindors followed Percy through the Great Hall, up the marble staircase in the entrance hall. Harry was sleepily leaning on Chrys, who was wide eyed in excitement at the moving staircases, the moving, talking portraits, and the shortcuts Percy took behind tapestries and secret panels. Most of the first years were yawning, walking slowly and asking, "Are we there yet?"

Percy stopped abruptly. Harry perked up, thinking they had at last reached their destination, but Chrys shook her head and pointed towards the ceiling. A bunch of walking sticks were floating above them in mid-air. Percy took a step forward, and got wildly attacked. Some of the first years looked panicked. Percy explained that this was being done by Peeves the poltergeist. He commanded the creature to show itself. Nothing happened. Percy threatened to call the Bloody Baron over. Now Peeves came into sight. The poltergeist was decidedly more solid looking than the ghosts, and furthermore had blue skin. His expression was wily and his tongue was loud and noisy. He flew directly at them, cackling madly. Harry (suddenly alert), jerked Ron and Chrys out of harm's way. Percy threatened Peeves with the Baron again, and so the poltergeist disappeared into the distance (not before depositing the rest of the walking sticks on top of Neville's head).

Ron sighed. "He has the worst luck."

Harry and Chrys nodded in agreement.

Percy told them to watch out for Peeves, who was a pest that not even the prefects could control. The Baron was the only thing that scared him.

Down the hall they reached a portrait of a rather large woman wearing a dress in a shade of pink that Aunt Petunia would have thought scandalous. She asked for the password and Percy gave it to her. The portrait swung out of the way to reveal an opening in the wall.

"It's like a hobbit hole," Chrys declared through a yawn. Hermione made a noise of recognition. Ron shook his head in confusion, before turning to help Harry pull Neville across the threshold.

"This is the Gryffindor common room," Percy told them unnecessarily. There was a warm fire crackling in the hearth, and many comfy armchairs situated around it. "The girls' rooms are through that door, up the stairs on the left, and the boys' are through the door, up the stairs on the right."

"I think I'll go straight to bed," Harry said, rubbing his eyes as he looked at Chrys. "You?"

"Yeah, goodnight, Harry, Ron, I'll see you in the morning." She gave her brother a kiss on the cheek (he made a face and wiped it off).

Ron snorted in amusement. "Night."

Chrys followed Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender up the stairs to their new dorm. It was a nice room with four large beds dressed in red.

"Oh, I call this one!" Lavender cried, rushing over to her preferred spot. "Come on Parvati, get the one next to me!"

"Do you mind?" Parvati politely asked the rest of them. Chrys and Hermione shook their heads and went over to the last two beds. Chrys pulled an ancient set of pajamas (that had probably been Dudley's at some point), out of her trunk and shoved the bulky old thing under her new bed. She wasn't too keen on organization at the moment. Hermione on the other hand, was carefully refolding all her clothes and placing them in her bedside bureau. Parvati and Lavender were laying out their things, comparing styles and chatting noisily. Chrys tugged the strings on her elastic waistband as far as they would go, and went over to ask Hermione if she could borrow a book. Lavender looked up and gasped.

"Merlin's sake, what _are_ you wearing?" She asked. Parvati glanced apologetically at Chrys, though she seemed surprised by the clothes as well.

"Um…pajamas…" Chrys answered, fiddling with a worn thread. Hermione frowned.

"You shouldn't insult her clothing," she told Lavender.

Chrys shrugged. She appreciated Hermione's defense, but, "To be honest, I insult my clothing all the time," she admitted. "But it's all I have so—"

Lavender interrupted with an odd sort of squeak. "Oh Chrysanthemum! Come here and I'll give you something to wear."

"Er, no thanks, I'm really—"

" _This_ would look lovely with your eyes, though it might be a bit too large, you are _so_ small, aren't you?"

Hermione and Chrys exchanged an exasperated look.

Still, Chrys knew the Lavender's gesture was heartfelt, if not somewhat blunt. So she accepted many items of clothing from the girls, including a blue nightie from Lavender, and a pair of red silk trousers from Parvati. Hermione even handed over a t-shirt with a C.S Lewis quote about tea and books printed on the front.

Chrys snuggled into her new bed, feeling uniquely full, warm and welcome in her surroundings. The day had not been perfect, but overall it ended well. She fell asleep feeling equal measures of annoyance and appreciation. The odd mixed mood extended into her dreams, which were both vividly beautiful and excruciatingly painful. She imagined she was asked to come to the front of the class, and the professor set her on fire as an example. The flames were a gorgeous scarlet, and not hot, but merely warm like fresh spilled blood washing over her skin. Her body felt fine, except for the tug in her chest, as if she might cry, and the burning in her head as if she might die.

By morning she was still hot and disoriented, but she could not remember why. Whatever nightmares had plagued her were flung into the recesses of her mind.


	7. Of Friends and Lost Time

Chrys woke to a gentle pressure nipping at her fingers.

It was Hedwig coming to say good morning. The owl cooed softly as Chrys scratched her behind the ear tuffs. Then she spread her wings and leapt out the window.

Chrys smiled at the angelic white movement.

Might as well wake up now, she thought, as she stretched. She wiped the cold sweat off her sore forehead. She could probably use a shower.

She grabbed her robes and tiptoed towards the unexplored door on the right.

She peeked inside and found exactly what she was looking for.

It was a large bathroom with several stalls for toilets and others for showers. Chrys washed off quickly, changed, and sneaked downstairs into the common room.

She hadn't expected anyone else to be up yet, so she was surprised to see the Weasley twins and their friend Lee Jordan huddled around the fire.

Fred Weasley spotted her first, nudging his twin's shoulder. George blinked and tucked a yellowed piece of parchment into his robes.

"Morning, Chrysanthemum," the Weasley twins chorused.

Lee gave her a friendly wave. "Couldn't sleep?" He asked sympathetically.

"It's a little early for little midgets like you to be up and about," Fred commented.

Chrys shook a finger at him. "One day I will be taller," she promised.

The three boys chuckled. "Maybe someday-" Fred started.

"-But not today!" George finished. Chrys shrugged.

"I just thought I'd get some sketching in before morning classes, unless…am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Fred and George said quickly. Lee shook his head a little too aggressively. George patted his chest subconsciously.

"Uh-huh…" Chrys surveyed the Weasley twins' identical grins. She was generally suspicious of people who smiled like that. She shrugged again. "Well, I don't care what you lot are up to as long as it doesn't affect me," she muttered as she went to sit on the windowsill. She heard Lee sigh in relief.

About an hour later Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender filed down the stairs.

Hermione said, "Good morning, Chrys."

"We wondered where you'd gotten off to," Parvati said. "Lav and I were just going to meet Padma—want to come with us?"

Chrys was touched at the offer, but she shook her head. "No thanks, I'm going to wait for Harry and Ron."

"Suit yourself," Lavender said, waving as the two girls walked off arm in arm.

Hermione sighed. "I thought you might like to get an early start. I read that the castle can be tricky to navigate during the first year, so I thought it would be prudent to find out where the classes are before I go to breakfast."

"Sounds like a good idea," Lee chimed in. "What do you have first period?"

"Transfiguration," Hermione answered, glowing at the thought.

"Do you know where to go?" Lee asked. Hermione hesitated. Lee turned to Fred and George. "Why don't we drop her off on our way down to the ki—" Fred stomped on Lee's foot, affectively shutting him up. Lee winced.

"Sure, sure," George said, putting his hands on Hermione's shoulders and steering her towards the portrait hole. "Oh and Chrys, if you're waiting for Ron you'll be here all day. He sleeps like a flobberworm…"

"…And snores like a troll," Fred added.

"I'll keep that in mind." Chrys nodded, though she had no idea what they were going on about.

She could hear Hermione ask, "Where are you going exactly?" as the four of them set off.

Pretty soon lots of students started heading down on their way to breakfast. Many of them paused to stare at Chrys before they left. She was just about to tell them off when Harry and Ron finally came rushing down the stairs.

"Morning," Harry greeted her as he straightened his tie.

"It's about time, I've already sketched three owls and a—"

"Come on then," Ron interrupted her. "We're almost late for breakfast."

"Oh really? I wonder whose fault that is?" Chrys muttered, before following them out the room.

Breakfast was just as delicious and filling as dinner had been. Ron scarfed it down like a pig at a trough. Harry on the other hand shuffled things around his plate and sighed several times. He jumped in surprise as a shower of owls came down from the ceiling, carrying letters and newspapers in their beaks.

"It's just the post," Ron assured him. Hedwig didn't have any mail, but she came down anyway to nuzzle the twins affectionately.

"Oh what a pretty owl," Parvati complimented her. Hedwig puffed up proudly. Chrys beamed.

Meanwhile Ron was trying to convince Harry to eat something. "You should fill up, mate," he said firmly. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

"Yeah, I know." Harry sighed yet again.

"It's the staring, isn't it?" Chrys said knowingly. Harry nodded.

"I can't decide if this is more or less annoying than being ignored," he whispered, as Ron noisily slurped down his pumpkin juice.

Chrys scratched her nose. "I think this is better. Sure it's a bit unnerving, but at least they're acknowledging our existence."

"I suppose so…" Harry poked at his egg, watching the center gush. Chrys bumped up against him playfully.

"Hey, cheer up, Harry, today is our first day of lessons—we get to learn how to do magic!"

Harry brightened a bit and munched steadily on some toast. "That's the spirit," Ron said encouragingly.

Once they were done, Chrys tried to follow Hermione to their first class. This proved difficult as Ron and Hermione couldn't spend a second together without scoffing and grumbling. Eventually Chrys let Hermione go on ahead, choosing to stay behind with Harry and Ron. Ten minutes later, Chrys glared angrily at Ron.

"If you had the slightest decency to walk behind Hermione without complaining about their hair, then we won't have got so lost!" Chrys growled.

"I only mentioned her hair once, and she got really annoyed. It's not my fault she's so stuffy," Ron argued.

"You barely know her!"

"Oh, and you know her so well?"

"Now, now," Harry said quickly. He raised an arm up between the two of them. "Let's stop that and focus on finding the Transfiguration classroom."

Ron and Chrys crossed their arms, but agreed reluctantly. "It'd be easier if there weren't so many bloody staircases," Ron mumbled.

"Or if they stayed still for a moment," Chrys added. The novelty of moving staircases was swiftly wearing off on her. She tripped as the step below her vanished. "Argh!" Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her up to the landing.

"Maybe it's that door over there," he guessed haphazardly. He pulled on the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

Ron kicked the door hard. "Why, won't, you, open!" He yelped as he stubbed his toe, anger mounting.

"Well I certainly won't respond to _that_ attitude!" The door spat back at them. Harry, Ron and Chrys exchanged a startled look.

"Sorry about that," Harry apologized quickly.

"Please will you open?" Chrys asked.

"Alright, that's much better," the door said softly as it swung open.

Ron stuck his head in and groaned. "Just a broom cupboard," he announced.

"There's nothing _just_ about me," the broom cupboard protested.

"Yeah, yeah." Ron shook his head. "What about down that way?"

They tried the next staircase, which was so decrepit that Chrys gulped and hung tight to Harry's arm for fear she'd slip and fall to her doom.

Next they tried a door, which opened to reveal a solid wall, and another, which was a dark empty classroom with dusty desks, piled high.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I swear we passed that same suit of armor three times all ready…have we been going in circles somehow?"

"Maybe it's following us around. You two are quite popular after all," Ron joked.

"Do they really move?" Harry questioned. Ron shrugged. "Let's try one more door then."

"This one's stuck as well," Ron told them.

"Please open?" Chrys asked it hopefully. It still stayed shut.

Then she heard an alarming, "Mrraow!"

"Uh-oh," Ron said suddenly. He tapped the twins on the shoulder. They spun around to see a scruffy looking cat streaking towards them. Following the cat was an equally grimy old man with a mop raised threateningly above his head. "That's Flich, the caretaker," Ron muttered under his breath.

"He doesn't look too happy," Chrys whispered back.

Ron gulped. "I don't think he's ever happy."

"Fantastic." Harry sighed. "We've hit a dead end."

As it turned out, that last door had been the entryway to the forbidden third floor corridor.

"We had no idea that's what it was," Chrys tried to explain.

"Likely story," Flich grumbled. "What else would you be doing in this area, eh?"

"We got lost," Harry said.

"Making up stories? They think they're clever, don't they Mrs. Noris?" Flich cooed to his cat.

Chrys _knew_ she was clever, but apparently she wasn't clever enough to get them out of this unsavory situation.

"Mr. F-F-Flich, wh-what's going on h-here?" The shaky voice echoed down the hallway.

It was Professor Quirrell and his plum colored turban.

"Professor Quirrell, I've caught some students, tryin' to get into the forbidden corridor," Flich said vindictively.

"N-now, I'm sure there's a p-p-perfectly re-reasonable explanation for this Argus," Quirrell stuttered.

"Yes, there is," Harry said quickly.

"We just got lost and ended up here," Ron repeated.

"We didn't know this was the forbidden corridor," Chrys added.

Flich scoffed, but Quirrell believed them immediately. He sent them off to class, which they eventually reached by asking Sir Nick for directions.

Professor McGonagall was livid, but perfectly put together. She simply gave them extra homework so they could make up on what they missed in class. Chrys thought this was the most reasonable punishment she had ever received.

Still, she hoped the rest of the classes wouldn't be as hard to get to.

Though she refused to be separated from Harry, she was getting tired of his and Ron's exceptional ability to get lost. Within a couple of days they were beginning to figure out the halls and staircases, though they did get into some trouble with Peeves, who chased after them bombarding them with chalk. After the poltergeist left, Harry insisted on going back for Neville, whom Peeves had locked in a closet.

"Oh Neville," Chrys sighed as he thanked them profusely.

"Let's just stay lost today," Ron suggested. "It's History of Magic next."

"I understand it's boring, but we have to go. Hermione will kill me if I miss any more classes," she told him.

"Really Chrys, how are you friends with that girl? I'd go mad."

"You are mad," Chrys said, only half-teasingly. "But she's nice, you know, once you get to know her."

"Yeah right. All she does is lecture everyone and answer every single question the teachers ask."

"So she's smart, that's no reason to dislike someone."

"That's not it." Ron shook his head. "You're smart and I don't mind you."

"That's really heartwarming Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes. "There's just something about Granger that really gets on my nerve--"

"Chrys! Ron! Hurry up!" Harry called as he jogged in front of them.

"Oh come on, Neville's running faster than us," Ron pointed out.

In History of Magic Chrys tried not to fall asleep as she listened to the ghostly Professor Binns ramble on about goblin wars. Neville was all ready snoring quietly behind her, while Harry and Ron drew out a game of hangman. Chrys wished she could join them, but every time she showed the slightest sign of being distracted, Hermione tapped her quill pointedly against the desk they shared, and forced Chrys to continue taking notes. Furthermore Hermione leaned over several times to correct Chrys' spelling mistakes.

"Chrys, it's Uric spelled with a C, not a K."

"Really Hermione? These are just notes."

"If you spell it wrong in your notes you'll get into bad habits and you might spell it wrong on an essay or test," Hermione continued.

"Because a spelling mistake is clearly the end of the world," Chrys grumbled.

Chrys understood why Ron got annoyed with Hermione, but in general Chrys really enjoyed having someone besides Harry (and now Ron) looking after her.

When Chrys had several more nightmares and headaches throughout the week, Hermione got her a dreamless sleep potion from Percy. When that didn't work, Hermione stayed up with her until they fell asleep sitting up with books in their laps.

In return Chrys defended her to Ron, and begrudgingly agreed to do all of the homework.

To be honest, she had plenty of time to get work done, as she was often up in the latest hours of night and the earliest hours of the morning, with little time to sleep in-between.

The windowsill in the common room became her favorite spot. She could spend hours in the calm quiet, sketching the scenery or speeding through her charms homework.

Chrys found charms to be fairly easy. The teacher, Professor Flitwick was even shorter than Chrys, easily excited and most importantly, very kind. He always answered his students' questions in a thoughtful, cheerful sort of way that made Chrys feel energized and ready to go.

Unfortunately, Defense Against the Dark Arts was more along the lines of History of Magic. Professor Quirrell was polite, but his stutter and his fearful attitude made lectures a slow business. Furthermore, lectures were the most they got out of that class. Fred and George mentioned that there were some practical lessons taught later on, but neither of them seemed very enthusiastic about it.

"I'm just tired of the smell," George complained.

"I swear the man must stuff his turban with the stuff." Fred's face scrunched up.

Chrys tried to be nice to Quirrell, especially after he helped them out that first day, but the acrid smell in his classroom (which was rumored to be garlic to ward off vampires), gave her a headache, and made her ill tempered.

Out of all the classes so far, Chrys and Hermione were the most interested in Transfiguration. From day one Professor McGonagall had been tough but fair, which made it easy for Chrys to focus and actually enjoy learning for once.

Professor McGonagall explained that Transfiguration was one of the most finicky and risky sorts of magic. Chrys liked having her brain challenged while getting a bit of excitement. Every afternoon, when she and Hermione settled down in the common room to do their work, they gravitated to the Transfiguration first. Soon their little corner of the common room became a fairly popular place, as it became evident to their classmates that Chrys and Hermione were the best at Transfiguration in their year (well, Hermione was the best at everything). People crowded around to ask questions. Hermione went into full on repeats of the lessons, with color-coded diagrams and direct quotes from the teachers. Meanwhile Harry and Ron fought over Chrys' paper, which she found flattering until they ripped it in half one time.

"That's what you get for letting them copy." Hermione nodded in a self-justified manner.

"I don't mind," Chrys told her. She was enjoying this new positive brand of attention. Rather than people staring at her because she was half of the famous Potter twins (which they still did on the sly), or ignoring her because Dudley was punch happy, the reputation as a clever student was much more preferable.

Still, whenever Hermione's mini lessons and Harry and Ron's squabbling got out of hand, Chrys was glad she had Neville to turn to.

Despite his initial confusion with any topic assigned, Neville always worked hard. It actually felt rewarding to explain something to him and see that he was properly listening. Besides, he was a dab hand at Herbology and returned the favor with helpful tips about the subject.

"It's nice to see someone else excited about the coursework." Hermione beamed as Neville finished drawing out a chart of which plants craved sunlight, and which plants shunned it. Neville flushed pink and Chrys laughed.

"Professor Sprout is a good teacher," Neville said hurriedly. "She makes me want to know more about it all."

Hermione and Chrys nodded. The plump woman always wore a wide smile when she described a plant's movements and habits, even if the description was gruesome or terrifying. In Chrys' opinion this showed a certain amount of dedication, as well as a healthy helping of obsession. Neville stood up and yawned.

"Well, if that's it I think I'll catch a couple winks before we have to head out for Astrology." Neville studied his shoes shyly. "Er, would you like to meet up to do the assignment?" He asked Hermione.

"Of course we will Neville," Hermione agreed. Neville smiled weakly at them. Chrys stifled a snort. She was fairly sure Neville had been aiming for some alone time with Hermione. She wondered if Hermione had even noticed. Ron would never believe someone fancied her--speaking of Ron...

"Hey, Nev, Ron's left his tie under the table—will you take it up for him?" She held it out.

"Sure." Neville yawned again, waving the tie at them as he headed up the stairs.

"Lazy, sloppy, forgetful," Hermione grumbled under her breathe. "Are you sure you have to wait for him to come to breakfast tomorrow?" She asked more loudly. "I know Harry is your brother, but Ronald Weasley is a complete—"

"Hermione! I know two don't get along, and I know those boys are incurably late to everything which bugs you to no end, but Ron is my friend and I'll stick by him."

"If you insist," Hermione sighed.

Luckily Chrys turned out to be wrong. Harry and Ron's lateness was not incurable. On Friday they finally showed up to breakfast on time.

"This calls for some celebration," Chrys declared, pulling some emergency licorice out of her pocket.

"Um, no thanks," Harry said, eyeing it dubiously.

"More for me then," Chrys shrugged.

"I'll have some." Ron snatched a piece up and nearly swallowed it whole.

"You've got to savor it Ron!"

"Okay, okay." He raised his hands defensively. Harry laughed and started choking on his bacon. Ron slapped him on the back.

After his windpipe was clear, Harry asked what classes they had today. Ron watched the Potter twins with amusement.

"You two are pouring sugar onto your porridge in the exact same way," he observed. "Fred and George do that sometimes. I wonder if all twins—"

"What class, Ron?" Chrys interrupted his musing.

"Oh…right."

Today was their first potions lesson. Or rather, it was a double period of potions alongside the Slytherins. Ron complained that Professor Snape, as the Head of Slytherin house, was rumored to favor his students.

Harry wished Professor McGonagall, Gryffindor's head of house, would favor them.

"She's nice enough to us," Chrys said.

"I guess, but she gives us so much homework," Ron groaned. Harry nodded sadly.

"We have turned up late to every single one of her classes," Chrys pointed out. "Let's try not to do that with potions, alright, boys?"

"Yes ma'am!" Ron and Harry shot her a salute. She laughed.

"Look, Hedwig's got a letter today," Harry observed. She flew down and landed neatly between the twins. Harry quickly ripped open the letter. "Hey, it's from Hagrid," he said excitedly.

"That's great!" Chrys leaned over his shoulder and squinted to read Hagrid's messy handwriting.

"He's inviting us to come to his house for tea this afternoon," Harry informed Ron. "I'm saying yes."

"Of course," Chrys agreed, handing him a quill. He scrawled out an answer, to which Chrys signed off _love, Chrys and Harry_.

"Time to go to potions," Ron said. So they stood up and followed their classmates down into the dungeons.

"Why have classes down here?" Chrys wondered. "The lighting and temperature is sort of depressing."

They gathered into the classroom and a few people made noises of disgust.

"Gross!" Lavender said, eyeing the shelves on the walls, which were lined with bottles of specimens floating around in mysterious juices.

"Creepy," Ron agreed, sitting next to Harry. Chrys took the seat between Harry and Hermione.

Just then Professor Snape strode into the room, his robes billowing behind him like black wings. He stood in the front, next to a fire lit cauldron. The flames stretched unflattering shadows across his form, adding to the all ready unpleasant juxtaposition of his dark hair and clothes against paleness of his skin. His deep, chilling eyes flickered across them as he picked up a piece of parchment and began checking off the attendance.

When he got to _Potter, Chrysanthemum_ , he did not stumble over her name as many had before him.

"Here," Chrys said, a little wary at the way he looked over her and then turned to Harry.

"Ah yes, Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."

Chrys frowned as Harry squirmed in his seat. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all laughed. She turned around and glared at them. Snape finished calling their names and then started speaking about what they were to expect in his class. The way he spoke made it clear that he thought highly of his subject, though not so much of his students.

He warned them against foolishness, and lack of understanding. His soft voice crept across the room, lingering sharply in their ears.

Chrys was glad they'd made it to class on time. She didn't like to think about what Professor Snape might assign as punishment.

On the other hand, she was annoyed. Already, without having had any time to assess their skills, Professor Snape was judging them harshly and negatively. She was not an imbecile, she was eager to learn, especially if she could prove she was smarter than this man thought she was. And she was not the only one who was feeling this way.

Hermione was so anxious she nearly fell off her chair.

Chrys could feel Snape watching her. She met his eyes defiantly.

"Miss Potter!" He called her out immediately. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Ron and Harry gave her worried, confused looks. Actually, the majority of the class looked like they had no idea what Snape was talking about.

"I don't know, sir," Chrys answered bitterly. Hermione stretched her hand up high, but Snape ignored her, continuing to sneer at Chrys instead. Her skin crawled and the words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them-- "Though wouldn't it be your responsibility to teach it to us instead of showing off?" Hermione gasped. Ron laughed, but covered his mouth quickly. Harry nodded in approval. Snape's eyes narrowed. He smirked.

"One point from Gryffindor, Miss Potter," he tutted darkly, going on to question Harry instead. "Now Mr. Potter, can you redeem your sister? Tell me, where you find a bezoar?" Hermione groaned and nearly stood up. The Slytherins sniggered when Harry had to admit he did not know the answer. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" The twins frowned. They had looked through their books, but it's not as if they had memorized them. If that's what Snape wanted, he should've asked for it before hand. "Could either of you tell me what the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane is?"

Harry and Chrys exchanged a frustrated look.

"I don't know," they said in unison. "I'm sure Hermione does though," Harry continued.

"Why don't you ask her?" Chrys added.

This time it was the Gryffindors who laughed. The sandy-haired boy (whom Chrys now knew was Seamus Finnegan) winked at the twins.

Snape's lips pressed thin and white. He ordered Hermione to sit down, and then spat out the answers to his questions like they should have been obvious. Then he snapped at the students, asking them why they hadn't copied this information down.

The sound of scribbling quills quickly filled the room. Snape moved silently to stand between the twins, looking at each of them in turn. "And another point for your cheek, Potters."

Chrys longed to release her true cheekiness on him, but Hermione looked so disappointed that she decided to stay quiet.

Next they were told to brew the Boil-Cure Potion in pairs. Snape roamed about the room insulting everyone's skills. Truthfully, Neville's potion was a disaster (the bottom of Chrys' shoes were still bubbling), but it was not entirely his fault, nor did Professor Snape have any right to blame the incident on Harry, who just happened to be sitting nearby.

Hermione was fuming by the end of class. She and Chrys brewed the perfect potion, which looked exactly the book's description of the final product. However Snape said nothing about the potion, instead taking off a point for the sloppiness of Chrys' workstation.

Meanwhile he praised Malfoy's potion, which was quite clearly unfinished, as it was releasing a red smoke rather than pink. "I should appeal to him," Hermione huffed. "If Malfoy received full marks then we most definitely should have—in fact-" She punched the air angrily with her fist. "We deserve additional credit!"

Chrys patted her tiredly on the arm. "Leave it alone, Hermione. He'll just find a way to take off more points." Then she caught sight of Ron talking gently to a moping Harry. "I'll catch up with you later, okay?" She ran over to the boys.

"He hates us," Harry said, without turning to look at her. Normally Chrys would have called him dramatic, except in this case he might have been putting it mildly.

Ron told them to cheer up, adding the Fred and George always got points off from Snape.

"I'll bet they did something to deserve it though," Chrys sighed. "Like putting a piece of paper that said 'jinx me' on his back or something."

Fred and George appeared out of nowhere, clapping Chrys on the back. "Never did that before," Fred commented.

"Sounds intriguing though," George continued. "We'll spice it up and get back to you."

Chrys watched them go. "Please don't tell Hermione, but I think I just lost us some more house points."

Harry reached over and pulled a piece of parchment off her back. It said _the annoyed Snape award_ in fancy script on it.

Ron laughed. "I promise I won't say a thing."

A couple hours later the three of them headed off to Hagrid's house. Chrys took the liberty of getting directions this time.

When they reached the little wooden hut Chrys smiled fondly at the giant pair of bright yellow rain boots sitting on the curb. Ron leaned over to examine a massive crossbow, but Harry pulled him back, "Wouldn't want to accidentally set it off," he pointed out.

When they knocked on the door, a loud barking responded. Apparently Hagrid had a very large dog named Fang.

Chrys was not fond of dogs or cats, however she was fond of Hagrid, so she decided to give Fang a chance. Ron squeaked in worry as she reached over to scratch Fang's ears, but it turned out the dog was a big softy. Despite his impressive size and pointy teeth, the only danger from Fang was his habit of drooling all over everything. Chrys would have been more annoyed, had she not been so focused on taking in the feel of Hagrid's home.

Hagrid's hut smelled like wood, earth and meat (there were chunks of it hanging from the ceiling to dry). It was pleasantly warm by the crackling fire, and Chrys settled back comfortably in a hand-carved chair, nearly forgetting about the horrible day she'd had.

That is, until Harry started complaining.

Luckily Hagrid was the sympathetic sort. He did not get along with Filch, or Mrs. Norris, though he did deny the possibility that Snape hated the twins.

"Are you sure you don't know anything about that Hagrid?" Chrys asked imploring, noticing the way he was staring at the ceiling. He coughed and promptly changed the conversation to Ron's older brother Charlie.

Ron went along with it. "…Romania's got a lot of mountains and forests, apparently, but as mum says, Charlie's always been the outdoors type."

Meanwhile Harry was perusing an article that had been cut out of the Daily Prophet. He made a surprised noise and passed it over to Chrys. Apparently the Gringotts break in that Ron had mentioned on the train had taken place on their birthday.

Harry excitedly pointed out to Hagrid that it had probably happened around the time they had been at the bank.

Hagrid cleared his throat and passed over another plate of his homemade rock cakes, which were unfortunately very well named.

Ron and Harry squirmed uncomfortably, not knowing how to refuse, but also not wanting to chip any more teeth. "Oh no thank you," Chrys said quickly. "It's almost dinner, so we don't want to spoil our appetites."

"That's right, a balanced meal is very important, mum always says," Ron added. Harry nodded rapidly.

Harry and Ron started playing catch with the leftover rock cakes on their way back to the castle. Chrys ducked as one soared over her head.

"You were suppose to catch it," Ron told her. Chrys stuck out her tongue. "Anyway," Ron continued. "It's weird that the break in happened on your birthday. Do you really think you could've seen the thief?"

"Well, I was thinking," Harry ran a thoughtful hand through his hair. "The article said that particular vault was emptied earlier that day, so nothing was actually stolen, which is why the goblins aren't worried." He turned to Chrys. "Could the thief have been after whatever was in Hagrid's dirty paper bag?"

Chrys smiled amusedly at Harry's sticky-up hair. She ruffled it further, and he tried to wriggle away. She laughed, "Honestly though? We got to a school for witch and wizards. I'm starting to think anything is possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos!


	8. Of Bullies and Heroics

Chrys was heading down to meet Hermione in the library.

Unfortunately, at the moment the fastest way to get there was across one of the oldest and most fragile staircases in the castle. It was like Hogwarts was taunting her, saying, 'Come along Chrys, step onto the staircase and fall to your doom!'

Chrys raised her chin high and took a step forward. Then someone shoved her from behind. She landed heavily on her hands and knees. The staircase rattled beneath her. Haughty laughter echoed from above.

"A little slow, aren't you, Flowerpot Girl?"

Chrys felt a snarl rise in her throat. She swallowed it down and stood slowly, taking her time to wipe her hands on her robes before turning to face him.

"Malfoy. Resorting to muggle bullying? What would your father think?"

Malfoy's grin twisted into a scowl. "Well, he would…"

"Yes?" Chrys thought she might have gained the upper hand, at least for now. Ever since they rejected his friendship on the Hogwarts Express, Malfoy had gone out of his way to antagonize the twins. They were not impressed with his wealth, or his pureblood family name, but every reminder of their parents' death left a fresh sting. Harry loathed him. Even Ron and Hermione's relationship looked civil compared to the way Harry and Malfoy interacted. Malfoy would prod Harry's sore spots until Harry lashed out angrily, and then Malfoy would smooth his fingers back through his overly gelled hair, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

So Chrys decided she'd better step up her game. With such a puffed up ego, he was bound to have a weak spot. Chrys kept her ears peeled, and eventually she found out that Malfoy was extremely sensitive about his father. Chrys had been using this to her best advantage.

Malfoy changed gears. "Are you looking forward to the flying lessons? I sure am. Though of course, I am a superb flier. Will you even be able to get on a broomstick with that fear of heights?"

Chrys gulped. He'd noticed. Maybe Malfoy wasn't as stupid as he looked after all. She stared strongly into his eyes and stepped up so their toes were touching. He automatically stepped backwards. "Malfoy, I was sorted into Gryffindor. I can be brave. Even if I am afraid, I can keep going. So push me down as much as you like, because I will always stand up again. Can you say the same for yourself?"

She left him with his jaw dropped.

"What's got you looking so satisfied?" Hermione wondered from behind several tall stacks of books.

Chrys sat down. "Nice fort, Hermione," she teased. Hermione huffed and pushed some books to the side, eyes searching. She gasped.

"Chrys, your hands! Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"

"I'm fine Hermione, I'm used to this sort of thing," Chrys sighed, licking her wounds. Hermione's nose wrinkled.

"That's not very sanitary."

"But it reduces the stinging," Chrys pointed out. She looked both ways, and seeing no one around, plopped her feet up on the table, pulling back her robes to get a look at her knees. Her tights were torn, knees rubbed raw, miniature rivers of blood running down her skin. Hermione quickly pulled a handkerchief out of her bag and dabbed it gently along the cuts. Chrys hissed in pain.

"Should I…?"

"No, that's fine. Thanks for stopping the bleeding."

"Chrys…did you fall or…?" Hermione was worrying her lip between her teeth. Chrys paused, not knowing how much to say.

"It was Malfoy, he pushed me."

Hermione stood up immediately. "That's abominable! You should report him to Professor McGonagall. She can give him detention or make him—"

"Hermione, please, sit down," Chrys urged her. Hermione grumbled, but sat down, slapping her hands angrily against the table. "Take a deep breath."

Hermione did so and then, after a moment… "Why did he do that?"

Chrys shrugged. "He's a bully. He doesn't like me."

"That's not a reason," Hermione said. "I know he's made a habit of calling you and Harry names, but to suddenly rise to the level of physical harassment, that's not—"

"I don't think he meant to hurt me this badly," Chrys interrupted her. "I think he just noticed I was afraid of heights and he wanted to shock me a bit."

"Don't you dare defend him," Hermione said sharply. Chrys frowned.

"I'm really not. I just think he's stupid and not worth the trouble. I've faced worse. Unless he decides to have a more serious go at Harry, I don't think I need to—"

This time Hermione interrupted, "Chrys, what have you gone through in the past? Who has been treating you so badly that this means nothing to you?" She hesitated. "I mean, I understand if it's too personal. You don't have to tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable but… I just would like to know." Chrys smiled weakly.

"It's a long story. Are you willing to cut back on studying tonight?"

"Of course I will." Hermione sounded offended.

"Okay. Then why don't you check out a couple of those, and we can head over to the bathroom. I'll wash off my hands and knees and tell you the tale of Meredith who had no mercy." Hermione nodded glumly, giving Chrys a tight hug before grabbing a pile of books and running off to find the librarian.

Chrys stood frozen once more, rather taken aback. Hermione was full of surprises.

Back in the common room Chrys and Hermione were taking a break from homework for once. They were playing Chrys' favorite game. Chrys drew a book character, a historical figure, or a personal acquaintance, and Hermione had to guess who it was.

"Ooh! That's great Chrys. It looks exactly like Charles Dickens!"

Chrys got up and did a little bow. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all night folks." She heard Harry snorting in amusement. Chrys turned the page in her sketchbook and held it up for him to see. "Hey Harry, who's this? Hermione had no idea."

Harry smiled nostalgically. "Clark Kent."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sure I've heard the name before, but I still don't know who that is." Harry and Chrys laughed. "Superman," they said unanimously.

"Kent is his alter-ego, you know, his secret identity," Chrys explained.

"Ah…" Hermione blushed. "Well he's not really a _book_ character per say, so I'm not sure it counts."

"Give it up Hermione. Missing one out of nine is quite impressive. Harry usually only gets about half of them right."

"That's because you mostly draw obscure mythology characters that no one knows about besides you," Harry pointed out.

"Hermione might know," Chrys argued. Harry nodded.

"Well, she might," he agreed. Hermione sat up straight.

"I'm sure I would."

Harry coughed. "Anyway, um, Hermione, do you think I could have a word with Chrys?"

Hermione blinked. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I'll just go summarize these for Neville." She picked up a stack of books and started carefully up the girls' staircase. Harry watched her go.

"Were all those books about Quidditch and flying?" He asked.

"Uh-huh. And that was _after_ I crossed some off the list. Leave Hermione alone in the library and the shelves will be emptied before you know it." She laughed. He didn't. "Anyway, what do you need, brother of mine?" Harry frowned, flopping down on the couch with a gigantic sigh. Chrys swatted his feet out of the way and sat next to him. "Let me guess, you're worried about the flying lesson tomorrow?" Harry groaned. "I'll take that as a yes. What happened though? You were practically drooling at the idea earlier."

"Malfoy happened," Harry muttered. "He's the worst there is. Dudley seems like a badly trained puppy compared to him."

"Now, Harry, that is an insult to puppies. They're adorable and can get away with anything." She paused. "Though maybe that's what Dudley looks like from Aunt Petunia's perspective." Harry shuddered in disgust. "Really though. Just because Malfoy says he can fly circles around you, doesn't mean he's telling the truth."

Harry nodded. "That's pretty much what Ron said."

"Then trust Ron. He grew up around this stuff, so he has a better perspective on it than we do." She shook her head. "Plus everyone's been pretending they're Quidditch stars recently. I mean, Ron definitely hasn't flown high enough to hit a hang glider, and Seamus couldn't have fought off a pack of flying monkeys, because I looked it up, and they don't exist."

Harry laughed. "You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right." Chrys winked. "Now, why don't we get a head start on the Astronomy assignment?"

"I see Hermione's rubbing off on you," Harry commented. "Though I guess I don't mind." He got up and reached over, pulling Chrys to her feet.

"...Harry, you can let go of my wrist now," Chrys said, worried by the way he was staring at her hands.

"Chrys. Who did this to you? Was it Malfoy?" Harry's voice was rough. His fingernails were digging into her skin.

"I fell," Chrys said, not too convincingly. He snorted.

"Come on, you can do better than that. That's the oldest excuse in the book."

"If you don't let go of me right now, I will bite you," Chrys threatened. Harry looked into her eyes, saw she wasn't bluffing, and let go. "And I did fall Harry. I was walking down the stairs, I looked down and I got scared." That was the truth. "I just fell. It has nothing to do with Malfoy." That was a lie.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath of frustration. Chrys didn't know whether he believed her or not, because at that moment Ron and Dean came down the stairs, arguing loudly with each other.

"But I don't understand why there's only one ball," Ron grumbled. "That's got to be _so_ boring."

"Football is not boring, you take that back!" Dean snapped.

"Calm down, it's only a sport," Ron said defensively.

"Oh yeah? And what if I said Quidditch was 'only a sport?'"

Ron spluttered. "What? No way. That's completely different. You just don't get it." He spotted Harry and Chrys. "Harry, tell Dean why Quidditch is better than that football thingy."

Harry just shrugged, glaring at the ceiling like he was trying to burn a hole in it.

The next morning Chrys was waiting in the common room for Harry and Ron so they go could to breakfast together like always. After their argument, Harry said he was tired and went to bed early. For the first time in years, he hadn't said goodnight to her. Chrys was twiddling her thumbs, trying to decide what to do when she saw him, when suddenly she heard footsteps. She was disappointed to see Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan.

"Expecting someone else?" Seamus grinned. Dean tilted his head curiously.

"Why are you still here? Harry and Ron left ages ago."

Chrys' eyebrows shot up. "They did?"

Dean nodded. "They didn't tell you?"

"No." Chrys wilted like an un-watered flower.

Dean and Seamus exchanged a nervous look. "Eh, well maybe they were really hungry and rushed down soon as they woke up," Seamus suggested. Chrys smiled sadly. That was kind of him, but she knew otherwise.

"Could be," she said aloud. The gossipers would have a field day if they knew the famous Potter twins were fighting.

"Want to come down with us?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, the more the merrier!" Seamus cried. Chrys nodded quietly, following them down without a word.

At the Gryffindor table Harry was sitting between Ron and Neville. When Neville saw Chrys he got up immediately. "Sorry, I'm in your seat," he said quickly.

"No, Neville," Harry said. "You're fine. Sit back down."

Neville paused, his bottom halfway off the bench. Chrys nodded encouragingly at him, and went to sit between Hermione and Parvati. Everyone at the table fell into an awkward silence. Chrys hated the feeling of hungry stares pressing against her. She knew Harry hated it as well. Serves him right, she thought grumpily.

The sound of wings and hooting descended down upon them. "There's the mail," Hermione pointed out, overenthusiastically.

"Malfoy's got more sweets sent from home," Ron complained from down the table. "Hope he gets fat."

Harry and Chrys snorted, eyes meeting for a moment. They turned away sharply. Hermione was looking questioningly at Chrys, but she was saved having to answer by Neville calling out that his gran had sent him something called a Remembrall.

"Doesn't that sound interesting, Chrysanthemum?" Hermione said.

"Sounds like a useless invention," Chrys mumbled.

"I quite agree," a horribly familiar voice said. The Gryffindors spun around. Malfoy grabbed Neville's Remembrall, and waved it tauntingly out of his reach.

Harry, Chrys, and Ron stood up at once, just about to advance on Malfoy when Professor McGonagall appeared out of nowhere.

Neville told her what was happening. She gave Malfoy her infamous stern glance, and he handed the glass ball back immediately.

Then he swooped away, his robes billowing behind him, making him look like the junior version of Professor Snape.

Chrys was so ready to angrily shovel unnecessary amounts of food into her mouth, but McGonagall was giving her a curious look.

"Miss Potter, if you would join me in my office for a moment."

The other students protested. "Professor, she hasn't done anything wrong," Harry said quickly.

"It was all Malfoy's fault," Ron told her.

"She was just trying to help," Neville worried.

Professor McGonagall raised her hands up, silencing them without a word. "I am not going to punish Miss Potter, I merely wish to have a word with her in private."

"What about?" Harry asked.

"In private means in private Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall told him. "Do not worry, she will be back in time for class." Then she started down the hall. Chrys got up and followed, dragging her feet. "Better bring your things, just in case," Professor McGonagall added as an afterthought.

It was much too quiet in Professor McGonagall's office, and despite her assurances, Chrys still felt strongly like she was about to be reprimanded.

An old clock on the mantelpiece ticked by at a ridiculously slow pace. Chrys was trying to remember which class she had first, so that she could explain to the teacher why she was late, when Professor McGonagall finally spoke up.

"Do you know why you are here, Miss Potter?"

Chrys shook her head. "Not at all. Have I done something wrong?"

"Not so far as I am aware of," Professor McGonagall said. Chrys thought there might have been a twitch of a smile on her lips. "No. I thought we should talk about something that has been brought to my attention."

Chrys clutched her hands into fists, hoping the scabs weren't visible. "And what was that?"

"Percy Weasley tells me you have a rather difficult case of insomnia?"

Chrys blinked. "Oh. Well… it's not that bad, Professor. I just have trouble sleeping sometimes."

Professor McGonagall continued, "Mr. Weasley also mentioned that Miss Granger requested some healing aids for dealing with cuts and bruises. He informed me that after some coaxing Miss Granger admitted that those aids were needed to treat injuries you had recently attained. When asking how you had received these injuries, Miss Granger said only that you had fallen. This is of course a possible explanation, but Mr. Weasley believed, as I do, that there might be more to the story." Chrys was stunned into silence. Percy needed to learn how to shut up. "May I ask why you did not go directly to the Hospital Wing after you…fell?"

"I didn't think it was necessary. The cuts have scabbed over and the bruises will fade with time. It's nice of Hermione..." She paused. "And Percy, I guess," she added as an afterthought, "...to want to help, but I'm alright on my own."

"All right?" Professor McGonagall repeated in disbelief. "This is not 'alright,' Miss Potter. You are my student and I am your head of house. While you are in this castle you are my responsibility. I have every right to know when you are having difficulties." Chrys imagined that Professor McGonagall's eyes suddenly softened. "If you are troubled or in trouble, you can inform me of the situation and I will offer you my assistance."

Chrys sighed. "That's very kind of you, Professor, but I don't really need your help with anything. I'm not in trouble. I'm doing well."

Professor McGonagall frowned, picked up a tin on her disk, and handed it over to Chrys. "Ginger Newt biscuits," the Professor explained, seeing Chrys' confusion. "I have interrupted your breakfast. I know they are no substitute for a Hogwarts meal, but I admit I am quite fond of Ginger Newt biscuits." Chrys took two, never being the sort to refuse sweets.

"Thank you," she said after swallowing. Really the taste wasn't that bad. She could get used to Ginger Newt biscuits. Just as long as she wasn't interrogated every time she ate them. Professor McGonagall was formidable in more ways than one.

Chrys had been worried Harry would still be cross with her when she got back to class. However, seeing the expression of concern on his face made a relieved warmth spread through her.

The class was just starting to get out their notes. Harry and Ron were sitting next to each other as usual. Chrys paused carefully in front of their desk. Harry gave her a tentative smile that she returned immediately.

"So what did McGonagall want?" Ron asked flippantly.

"I'll tell you later," Chrys said, giving his seat a pointed look.

"Alright then." Ron shrugged, not understanding what she was getting at.

Hermione's voice came floating up from behind them. "Maybe you should go sit next to Neville. Maybe he needs your help with the notes," she told Ron.

Ron stared at her incredulously. "But my notes are rubbish," he argued. "You said so yourself just the other day."

"Ron, can I please sit next to my brother?" Chrys asked straight out.

"Oh…" Ron finally realized. "Just say so if that's what you wanted." He got up and went to sit next to Neville. Chrys took his seat beside Harry.

"No subtlety whatsoever," Hermione hissed under her breath. She leaned over between the twins. "Why I doubt he even realized you two had an argument and now need time to reconcile."

Chrys and Harry cleared their throats unanimously. Hermione did not take the hint. "Hermione, Professor Binns' has started his lecture," Chrys told her.

Hermione's attention was successfully diverted. She began scribbling furiously. Chrys stifled a laugh. Then she scooted closer to Harry and sighed.

"You were right. Malfoy pushed me over," she admitted. "I'm sorry I lied. " Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "But this is why I didn't tell you. You're going to make way too big a deal about it and I'll feel even worse. And I think McGonagall must have suspected some of what's going on—that's why she wanted to talk. To be honest, I think she's the best teacher we've ever had, but I still don't feel comfortable telling her about something like that."

Harry tapped his quill against their desk. "I get why you wouldn't want to tell her," he said softly.

"Some things I don't want to tell anyone," she muttered.

"You told Hermione," he pointed out.

Hermione looked up at her name. She gave the two of them a suspicious look. "Don't forget to take notes," she murmured, before focusing back on her own parchment.

Chrys scribbled mindlessly to appease her friend. Then she frowned. "How did you know I told Hermione?"

"She's been hovering over you like a mother hen," Harry said, half-amused and half-annoyed.

"If she's been a mother hen, then you've been a raging mother bear," Chrys countered defensively.

"I wasn't insulting her. I'm glad she cares about you." He paused, watching Chrys doodle bears and chickens on her parchment. He reached over and drew a mustache on one of the bears. Chrys looked curiously at him. "I was an idiot. I'm sorry I overreacted."

Chrys' mouth hinted at a smile. "Yeah you were, and yeah you did, but... I accept your apology."

"Thank goodness. I don't know what I would've done if I couldn't copy your notes anymore," Harry joked, now drawing a long hair on one of the chickens. Chrys giggled behind her hand.

"Oh yes, my notes are nearly as useful as Ron's."

The twins glanced over to see Ron and Neville, leaning against each other, sleeping soundly as Ron drooled on Neville's robes.

Later that day, Chrys skipped across the grass, following her housemates to their first flying lesson.

Poor Neville tripped and went rolling down the hill. Harry and Hermione ran after him, stopping him just in time before he slammed into a group of snickering Slytherins.

The Slytherins were all ready standing behind a line of broomsticks.

The Gryffindors went over to another line set up parallel to the Slytherins. Ron studied one of the broomsticks, shaking his head in disappointment. "These things look almost as old as the rundown ones we use at home," he complained. "Fred and George told me the navigation and stabilization systems rarely work properly in the school brooms. They're well due for an update. Merlin I wish I could get my hands on a Nimbus 2000…" Ron stared dreamily into the distance. Chrys snapped her fingers in front of his face to bring him back to earth as Madam Hooch came towards them.

"Interesting cut," Lavender said thoughtfully, eyeing Madam Hooch's spiky grey hair.

"It's probably more practical for flying around in the wind," Hermione said reasonably. Chrys shrugged.

Madam Hooch told them to put their right hand over their broom and order it to go 'up.'

Chrys did so, with her heart thumping anxiously. Though Harry and a few other people were holding their brooms comfortably, the majority of the class was watching their brooms roll helplessly around the ground (Chrys included). "What's the trick?" Chrys asked Harry.

"I think you've got to have bit of confidence in yourself or else it won't listen to you," Harry answered. Chrys tried again, this time sending out commanding waves. The broom jumped up this time, coming just short of her hand.

"Not bad," Ron said, having caught his on the third try. Hermione was staring at her broom in annoyance. Parvati was so surprised to see her broom zooming towards her that she almost didn't catch it in time. Neville looked miserable.

Madam Hooch seemed to think it was high time to move on, and now showed them how to mount their brooms. Harry and Ron sniggered when she corrected Malfoy's stance.

Chrys found it much easier to sit on an intimate object, rather than telling it to perform miracles.

Next they were told to wait for the whistle, kick off, and hover slightly above the grass.

Neville looked quite determined this time, but he ended up jumping the gun, kicking off too early and perhaps too hard. He whizzed up into the air faster than you could say, "Uh-oh."

Chrys winced as Neville fell off his broom, landing with a horrible smack.

Several people gasped. Everyone ran forward to see what had happened. Madam Hooch turned pale, helping him stand up, and announcing that she was going to take him to the hospital wing to get his broken wrist healed. She threatened the students with expulsion if they even touched their brooms while she was gone.

"I hope he'll be alright," Hermione sighed. Parvati was clutching Lavender nervously.

Seamus was frowning hard, but he said, "Madam Pompfrey is a Grade A healer, she'll have him right as rain in no time."

Dean nodded in agreement. "She was a great when Seamus accidentally blew off his eyebrows."

Chrys tried not to laugh. "How on earth did you manage to blow off your eyebrows, Seamus?"

Seamus grumbled and stared at the ground, but Dean smiled and leaned over to whisper conspiratorially in her ear, "The first time he was trying to turn some water into rum, and the second time—"

"It was only one time!" Seamus argued, apparently able to hear every word. "It's not bloody fair to count the other two times."

"Watch your language, Seamus," Hermione said automatically.

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Aye, sure I will, _mum_."

Parvati and Lavender giggled. Hermione glared.

"More importantly," Harry said suddenly. "I think Malfoy's just stolen Neville's Remembrall."

Harry was right.

Malfoy made fun of Neville, spinning the Remembrall around like a trophy.

Parvati snapped defensively at him.

Pansy Parkinson, irreverent, Slytherin gossip girl extraordinaire, snapped right back.

Harry told Malfoy to hand over the Remembrall.

Malfoy smirked, saying he'd rather hide it up in a tree.

Harry started forward, but Malfoy hopped on his broom and soared up into the air.

"Shit, he's actually not a bad flier," Seamus said, annoyed.

This time Hermione didn't call him out for swearing, she was too busy trying to convince Harry not to follow Malfoy.

"If you hadn't noticed, the lesson got interrupted shortly after it started. You don't know how to fly, Harry," Chrys reminded him.

Harry's cheeks were flushed, but his spine was straight. "Well I'll just have to make it up as I go along. Isn't that our specialty, Chrys?"

Despite their protests he got on his broom and was off.

"Oh no, what if he falls like Neville did?" Hermione was aghast.

Chrys stared closely. "No, I think he's fine."

"How can you know that?"

"Because he's smiling."

And Chrys was right. Harry beamed as he executed a dangerous looking twist in mid air.

"Oh wow," Parvati said.

Lavender giggled again. "Maybe being scrawny isn't too bad," she told Chrys. "Your brother's actually looking pretty good right now."

Seamus frowned.

Ron cheered. "He's great. Go Harry!"

Harry and Malfoy rose higher in the air, facing off with great tension. Chrys adjusted her glasses. "Stupid failing eyesight, I can't see a thing now," she complained.

"I think I can make it out," Ron said, squinting. "Yeah…they're arguing with each other…that's to be expected… ooh Malfoy looks scared…he's thrown something…it's the Remembrall. Merlin it's going fast. Oh and now Harry's diving after it." He winced. Hermione was biting her nails.

For a moment Chrys was worried Harry was going to smash into the ground and become flat as a pancake. Then he pulled up at the absolute last second, raising the Remembrall triumphantly in his fist.

In a careful, purposeful way, he fell forward on to the grass, smiling up at Chrys and the Gryffindors who were crowded around to praise him—

Professor McGonagall ran forward, brow furrowed as she shouted his name.

"Bad luck, Harry," Ron muttered. Chrys and Ron pulled Harry to his feet, just in time for Professor McGonagall to start chiding Harry, her words staggered as she panted.

"Never-in all my time in Hogwarts-how dare you-could have broken your neck!"

Parvati and Ron quickly tried to explain, but McGonagall cut them off. She ordered Harry to follow her. Chrys tried to come as well, but McGonagall seemed to guess she would, because without even turning she said, "Not you Miss Potter. You stay there."

"Bad luck," Ron repeated, shaking his head. "And after such a magnificent save."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "I'm starting to see why you go on so much about Quidditch, Ron, Seamus."

Seamus patted him on the back. "But at what cost, mate? Harry might get expelled now."

"Do you really think Professor McGonagall will be that harsh?" Parvati asked.

"She is rather strict." Lavender frowned.

In the Slytherin corner of the field, Malfoy was gloating about getting a nuisance like Harry expelled for good.

Ron clenched his fists. "I ought to make him shut up."

Seamus rolled up his sleeves. "I'm right behind you, Ron."

Dean gulped. "Well…if you need me…"

Chrys frowned thoughtfully.

"Oh please, no fighting. Then more people will get expelled, and there will be no chance of us winning the house cup and Professor McGonagall will be so disappointed in us," Hermione started rambling.

Before the boys (and possibly Chrys) could attack Malfoy, Madam Hooch came back and continued the lesson.  
Nearly everyone was having trouble concentrating. Malfoy was giving Chrys smug looks, wigging his eyebrows and mouthing things at her every time Madam Hooch was turned the other way.

"You're next," he whispered tauntingly.

Chrys was glad when the lesson was finally over and they could head back to the castle. She had been planning on faking some injury so she could sneak into the castle, find Professor McGonagall and somehow convince her to let Harry stay… but Hermione was watching her like a hawk.

"If that git's gotten Harry expelled, he'll seriously regret it," Ron muttered darkly. Chrys nodded, but Hermione shook her head.

"I did warn him. I told Harry not to—"

"Shut up, Hermione," Ron growled, stomping forward. Hermione looked to Chrys for support, but Chrys just glared, speeding up to walk with Ron.

During dinner Ron and Chrys huddled together, staring gloomily at the food, as if it were some great mystery that needed to be solved.

"He really cares about Harry, doesn't he?" Hermione whispered, surprised.

"Yes…but how did you finally come to the conclusion?" Chrys wondered, still a bit annoyed at her for acting like Professor McGonagall was justified.

Hermione pointed. "He's not stuffing his mouth as usual," she pointed out.

Ron groaned. "It's torture not knowing."

"Can't be much longer," Chrys assured him, though she knew exactly how he was feeling.

"There he is," Ron said suddenly, standing up at attention.

Harry came to the table, eyes staring mournfully at the ground. Ron turned pale.

"No way…"

Harry nodded, squeezing in-between them.

Chrys sighed. "I'll pack my bags soon as I finish dinner. Unless she wants you out right this instance?"

"First of all," Harry said slowly. "If I were expelled I would never dare make you leave as well."

" _If?_ " Chrys squeaked excitedly.

Harry took his time spooning potatoes onto his plate before he continued. "Secondly, I'm not expelled. McGonagall hasn't punished me in the slightest."

Ron slapped him on the back. "Bloody hell, Harry, you really had me going for a moment there."

"I thought he was going to soil his trousers," Chrys joked. Ron glared at both of them.

"Honestly, mate, why'd you lead us on like that?"

Harry grinned evilly and then burst out laughing. "You should have seen the looks on your faces," he said when he stopped to breathe.

"I hate you sometimes," Chrys muttered. Harry pouted. "Okay, I'll never hate you," Chrys admitted, giving him a hug. Though he was sometimes squeamish of touchy-feely moments, Harry allowed the hug, even patting her on the back at bit. It had been a long day after all.

"You two are almost as bad for my health as Fred and George," Ron grumbled. Harry's grin turned a little guilty.

"Sorry, Ron, I'll never make you worry again."

"Ha." Chrys thought that was highly unlikely. It was more likely Harry would give them all ulcers before they were twenty.

"Anyway," Ron asked, calming down after filling his stomach. "If McGonagall wasn't punishing you, what'd she want to see you for?"

"Well, let me tell you, it was a surprise," Harry began.

"That seems to be a pattern with her," Chrys said thoughtfully. "Maybe she's the sort who looks fierce and cool on the outside, but is really warm and fuzzy within."

Harry and Ron exchanged a doubtful look. "No way," Ron said.

"Probably not," Harry seconded.

Chrys shrugged. "Whatever. I'm just glad to have both my boys back."

Harry and Ron flushed.

"We are not your boys," Ron denied loudly. Fred and George looked over curiously from the other side of the table. Ron coughed.

When Harry told them what Professor McGonagall had done, Ron was so shocked that he dribbled pumpkin juice all over his robes. He was so distracted that he didn't even push Chrys away when she started dabbing it up.

Apparently, Harry had been recruited onto the Gryffindor Qudditch team as something called a seeker. Apparently, being an eleven-year-old seeker was quite a rare thing. Harry was the youngest to play in a century. The team captain, a fifth year named Oliver Wood, was planning on making Harry his secret weapon for the tournament.

He was telling Ron about his hush-hush training schedule, when the Weasley twins popped up behind them.

"I thought you were listening in on the conversation." Chrys smiled.

"Guilty as charged," George said, rubbing his neck, smiling back at her.

They congratulated Harry on a job well done, explaining that they were on the team as beaters. They finished with saying that Wood had high hopes, before heading off to meet Lee.

Then someone a whole lot less pleasant came over. "To what do we owe the pleasure," Chrys muttered through gritted teeth.

Malfoy turned his nose up at her. "Going to be lonely after your brother leaves?" He asked. "Planning on shacking up with freckle-face here and extending the long line of blood-traitors? Weasleys breed like rabbits after all." Ron turned red and stood up. Harry grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down again. Though Harry looked equally angry, he was smart enough not to do anything in front of the teachers. Malfoy looked disappointed as Chrys just continued to mildly munch at her food. He moved on to Harry instead. "Last meal, Potter?"

Harry didn't bother to tell Malfoy he was scot-free, instead pointing out that Malfoy seemed much more willing to confront him with his boulder-bodied friends at his side. Crabbe and Goyle made threatening faces, waving their meaty fists. Malfoy glanced hesitantly at the teacher's table, motioning for his unofficial bodyguards to settle down.

Instead, he challenged Harry to a wizard's duel.

Harry and Chrys were equally confused by this, but decided not to show it. Ron accepted for them, declaring himself Harry's second.

Malfoy chose Crabbe to back him up, and set the date for midnight in the trophy room.

"What's a wizard's duel?" Chrys and Harry asked in unison after he'd left. "And what do you mean, you're my second?" Harry added.

Ron nonchalantly explained that he would take over dueling Malfoy if Harry should be killed. Chrys narrowed her eyes, but Ron quickly went on to say that it couldn't be a _real_ duel with Malfoy, as neither of them knew any proper spells, and Malfoy was probably just spitting hot air anyway.

Harry was still worried at the prospect of fighting with magic.

Ron suggested a good punch if all else failed.

At that moment, Hermione took it upon herself to interject. "Excuse me," she said, flinching a bit at Ron's glare. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying-"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered. Chrys wondered if any conversations were private at the dinner table.

"And you musn't go wandering around the school at night," Hermione continued. "Think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught-"

"Ah, but then all we have to do is not get caught," Chrys pointed out, trying to get Hermione to lighten up.

It didn't work. Hermione just frowned at them. Harry told her it was none of her business anyway and Ron waved dismissively at her.

Hermione continued to argue with Chrys, as they got ready for bed.

"I know it's probably a stupid idea, but that's why it's all the more important for me to go with them. You know how they are. They'll get lost without me."

"They'll probably get lost even if you are with them," Hermione grumbled, trying to force her hair into a braid. "It's really important that we don't lose the house cup. They won't listen to me, but they might listen to you. As my friend, won't you help me out? Please tell them not to do it."

There was a little tug in Chrys' chest at the word 'friend.' Hermione was looking imploringly at her.

"Hermione, I'm glad you're my friend, but if you think winning the house cup is more important to me than Harry and Ron's safety, then you're not nearly as clever as you look."

Hermione huffed, and snuggled angrily into her blankets. Then she sat bolt upright and pushed them away from her.

"You okay, Hermione?" Parvati called from across the room.

"I'm fine," she called back, before turning to Chrys and hissing, "If you won't stop them then I'll have to take matters into my own hands." She stood up, and pulled on a bathrobe. Then she slipped on her slippers and padded softly, but swiftly out of the room. Chrys groaned and jogged after her.

"Come on, Hermione," she begged quietly. "Don't do anything drastic." Though Hermione was the perfect, well-behaved student, Chrys thought she was quite capable of doing something mad if it suited her needs.

"I won't do anything drastic," Hermione promised. Chrys sighed in relief. "I'm only going to tell Percy."

Chrys groaned. "Ugh, don't tell Percy, he's the biggest blabbermouth in all of Gryffindor—and that's including Lavender the Queen of Gossip!"

"Why shouldn't I tell him?"

Chrys thought quickly. "Because if you tell him, he'll tell Professor McGonagall and she'll take points off preemptively. At the very least wait until the boys come down and then decide what you're going to do."

Harry was a pretty convincing speaker, maybe he could get even Hermione's stubbornness to budge.

Hermione crossed her arms and sat stiffly in the armchair. Chrys sat next to her, shaking her head in exasperation.

Sooner than later, Harry and Ron came down the stairs.

"Time to go," Ron told Chrys, not spotting Hermione until she spoke up-

"I can't believe you're doing this, Harry."

"You!" Ron said. "Go back to bed!"

Hermione looked at Harry imploringly. He looked back at her like she was one of Mrs. Figg's cats—all up in your face and purring way too loud. Hermione turned to Chrys.

"I tried. If they won't listen to reason, I'll just have to go to Percy after all."

Ron glowered. Chrys sighed. "Hermione..."

"Come on," Harry said, ignoring Hermione and moving towards the portrait. Ron, Hermione ,and Chrys followed him out of the room.

Hermione continued talking at them, now turning to Chrys and telling her she had no house spirit. Ron told her to go away. Hermione was about to say something else, when suddenly she gaped at something behind Chrys.

Chrys turned around and frowned deeply.

The Fat Lady was gone. "Well that was an unfortunate time for her to decide to take a stroll," Chrys said. Now there was no way for them to get inside, even if they wanted to.

Hermione, predictably started to freak out. Ron shrugged and started walking off, deciding to leave her there. Hermione was having none of that, and began following them again.

Harry finally told them to shut up, warning them that he heard something.

They all shut up. Ron worriedly thought it was Mrs. Norris. Fortunately it was only Neville. Unfortunately Neville now had no way to get back inside and he was too scared to be left here alone.

So now there were five, rather the planed three.

Ron kept glancing impatiently at his watch as they walked at a quick pace. Hermione continued prattling on, while Neville nervously tried to chat to Chrys.

"So what's going on exactly?" He asked.

"Harry and Ron are off to a wizard's duel with Malfoy and Crabbe. I came along to make sure they didn't get lost. Hermione came along to try and stop us."

"Ah, I see," Neville said, sounding just as confused.

"Shut up—all of you!" Harry barked. "Do you want us to get caught?"

So they silently navigated their way to the trophy room. Ron poked his head in. "It's completely empty," he announced. "They're not here yet."

"Why am I not surprised?" Chrys muttered under her breath. Neville marveled at all the shinny awards. Harry tapped his wand anxiously against his trouser leg. Chrys shivered. Harry noticed.

"Want to borrow my jumper?" He offered, starting to tug it over his head. Chrys considered.

Ron looked up from his watch, announcing that Malfoy was late, and maybe he was too scared to come.

Hermione opened her mouth to comment—but then shut it again quickly. Filch's voice came from behind the door.

Harry took charge, gesturing at them all to follow him.

They ran for many minutes, during which, Neville tripped and accidentally brought Ron down with him, Hermione's hair slapped everyone in the face, and Chrys nearly got stabbed by a sword sticking out of a suit of armor's hand.

"Chrys, you're stepping on my foot," Harry told her once they were hidden in relative safety in a secret passageway behind a tapestry.

"Sorry, it's too dark in here," she mumbled, accidentally elbowing someone in the stomach. "Whoever that was, I apologize."

"'s okay," Ron gasped in pain.

Hermione and Neville were also gasping, but because neither of them were used to running so rigorously.

Harry popped his head outside, and after he was fairly certain Filch was gone, they all piled out into the open.

As soon as she could talk, Hermione got in her 'I told you so!' going on to say that Malfoy obviously set them up, reporting them to Filch so they would definitely get in trouble.

"You're probably right," Chrys admitted while Harry leaned against a wall and sulked. "Shouldn't we go to bed now?" She suggested.

"The Fat Lady might back by the time we are," Neville said hopefully.

Harry looked about to agree when Peeves suddenly melted out of a nearby door.

The poltergeist cackled in glee. "Wee Potty, wee Potty, and also a spotty!" He sang, pointing at Harry, Chrys, and Ron in turn.

"They're freckles," Ron blustered. Harry was more worried that Peeves was going to draw Filch's attention. He pleaded with Peeves not to say anything, but Peeves just continued making silly songs without giving them a straight answer.

Ron got fed up and took an aggressive step towards him—

And Peeves started screaming, giving out their location immediately.

"Nice going, spotty," Chrys grumbled at Ron as they started running again.

"They-are-not-spots!" Ron huffed.

"We…all…get spots…sometimes," Neville said comfortingly.

"More importantly, we've come to a dead end," Harry pointed out, screeching to a stop.

"There's still this one door," Ron said hopefully grasping the handle.

Unsurprisingly it was locked.

"That's it!" Ron started to gripe dramatically. "We're done for! This is the end!" Chrys thought Harry's attitude was rubbing off on him. She also thought this door looked oddly familiar…

Hermione shoved Ron out of the way, stole Harry's wand and promptly unlocked the door with a spell. Harry grabbed them, pulled them inside and shut the door.

Then he pressed his ear up against the door, trying to find out what was going on outside. Chrys could hear Filch and Peeves arguing not too far away.

She did not care.

She and Neville were facing away from the door, and could see clearly down the corridor. She wished she couldn't. It was a terrifying sight.

She and Neville clung to each other, hands slapped over their mouths to prevent themselves from shouting out.

The gigantic, drooling, yellow-eyed, _three headed_ dog, was glaring down suspiciously at the group of children huddled around the door.

"Cerberus," Chrys was unable to stop the word for spilling out of her mouth.

Harry told her to shush. Neville pulled anxiously on his sleeve. Harry waited a moment later, and said they should be fine as Filch didn't seem to suspect their position.

"We will not be fine," Chrys disagreed strongly, grabbing Harry by the ear and forcing him to face the monster.

"I'd rather Filch than death," Harry decided loudly, trying to find the door handle. Hermione and Ron came late to the party, finally noticing what was going on. She gaped silently and then scrambled for the handle as well. Ron pulled Chrys and Neville back by the shirt collars, just in time for the door to finally open. They all tumbled onto the floor. Harry slammed the door shut again, and then took off at a run.

The others followed without question.

Luckily the Fat Lady was indeed back when they reached Gryffindor tower. She was a bit suspicious, but they were all too tried to care by now. Harry gave her the password, and they quickly got inside, falling gratefully onto the couch like it was a little piece of heaven. Chrys rubbed her aching feet. She had been running through the castle without shoes.

Things were very quiet until Ron spoke up, wondering what on earth a dog like that was going locked up in a school. 

"If any dog needs exercise, it's that one."

Chrys smile appreciatively at the humorous comment, but it had exactly the opposite affect on Hermione.

She frowned angrily, seeming to think that the reason for the dog's presence was obvious. Apparently there was some significance to where it had been standing.

"What, the floor?" Harry and Chrys wondered aloud. Harry explained that the heads had taken up most of his attention.

Hermione stood up, hands on her hips, lamenting at the fact that they could have been killed—or worse expelled.

Chrys winced. Her friend had some screwed up priorities.

Ron seemed to think so as well. He stared after her as she marched haughtily up the stairs.

"I think I'll go to bed too," Neville yawned, wiping some sweat off his head. He looked at Harry and Ron. "You two coming up?"

"Soon, soon." Harry waved his hand dismissively. Ron nodded distractedly, both seemed to be in deep thought.

"Night, Nev," Chrys said. He waved goodbye, with a large sigh.

The three of them lay on the carpet, side by side, staring at the cracks on the ceiling.

"…I could use a snack," Ron said after a while. "Have any licorice, Chrys?"

She glanced calculatingly at him. "Well…I do, but there's only a little left so I'm saving it for emergencies."

"I think this qualifies," Ron laughed. Chrys agreed, and they had a little snack as Harry mused aloud.

"Remember Hagrid said that Hogwarts was the only place as safe as Gringotts? If that package he took out on our birthday really was what the thief was after, then we can assume it's important. And if it's so important then it might justify getting a monster to guard it."

"But that's all just speculation," Chrys said, sucking on the end of her licorice to make it last longer.

"Sounds pretty solid to me," Ron commented. "Though anything would sound pretty solid to me at this time of night."

"Really?" Chrys asked mischievously.

"Don't answer that," Harry said firmly. "She'll manipulate you into doing something weird and highly embarrassing before you even know it."

"You should have gone along with it. I promise you it would've been extremely entertaining," Chrys told Harry.

"Maybe next time," Harry said lightly. Chrys rolled over, managing to put all of her weight on him. He pushed her off and sent her smacking into Ron.

Ron shuffled over, giving her some more space. Chrys yawned, "I'm starting to feel delirious. Did we really almost get eaten by a three headed dog or was that one of the delusions?"

"Maybe we should get some rest," Ron suggested.

"Aw, Ronald is trying to be responsible," Chrys cooed. She reached over and ruffled his and Harry's hair at the same time. The boys grumbled and sat up.

"Time to go to bed," Harry announced, pulling her to her feet.

"See you in the morning, my adventure boys," Chrys smiled.

Harry sighed and Ron rolled his eyes, but they were both grinning back at her.


	9. Of Pigs and Arguments

The next morning Hermione got up on the wrong side of the bed…literally.

Normally she slid off the right side of her four-post, straight into her fluffy slippers. Today she was bleary eyed as she tumbled off the left side, landing on a pile of Chrys' stuff.

"This is why cleaning is important!" She lectured as she pulled bits of a broken quill out of her hair.

"Yes, Hermione," Chrys yawned. Though Chrys thought being so messy while owning so few possessions must be an impressive talent.

"Ooh you two have got some awful dark circles… and bags," Lavender commented, holding up a mirror and gesturing at their eyes.

"There's a potion for that, I think," Parvati added.

"Hmmm…" Chrys muttered distractedly. Hermione had somehow gotten dressed at super-speed.

"Chrys, come down to breakfast early with me," she ordered as she laced up her shoes. "We've got to talk about last night," she continued in a hushed voice, as the two of them walked down the stairs.

"Well, I do feel bad that you and Neville got caught up it all, but I don't think it was necessarily my fault."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose you're right, but that doesn't excuse your brother or Ronald. The whole catastrophe could have been prevented if they thought things through and followed the rules."

"Sometimes there isn't enough time to think things through," Chrys argued. "And actually, it was kind of fun running around the school at night. Anyway, we didn't get caught, so your precious House Cup isn't in jeopardy."

"Thinking like that makes you one small step away from becoming a delinquent," Hermione warned. "I can't blame you for what happened, but I do think it was a disgusting business and I'm happy to see the end of it."

On the flipside, Harry and Ron were pleased and eager for more. At breakfast they traded theories on what the dog could be guarding.

"All we know for sure, is that the object is about this big," Harry said, holding his hands a small way apart to demonstrate.

"You mean the paper bag was about that big…whatever was inside could've been even smaller," Chrys reasoned.

Ron rubbed his chin. "Either way we need to find some more clues."

On the other side of the table Neville was struggling to reach the sugar. Chrys leaned over and passed it to him. He thanked her and then frowned.

"Are they still going on about that dog?" He wondered. Chrys nodded hesitantly. Neville shivered. "Out of mind and out of sight is what my nan always says."

Hermione crossed her arms and glared at the cloudy ceiling. "Tell your brother and Ronald that I will not be speaking to them until they apologize and drop this nonsense."

"Er…okay Hermione, I'll tell them." So she did, and they responded by jumping up and high-fiving each other. "Harry…" Chrys muttered disappointingly. "Hermione is my friend."

Harry smiled apologetically. "I don't hate her or anything, but you have to admit she bosses people around a bit."

"A bit?" Ron shook his head. "That's putting it lightly. She a complete know-it-all. I say good riddance."

"Boys," Chrys grumbled, though secretly she knew they had a point.

"By the way," Ron said, perking up even more. "Did you see the look on Malfoy's face when we turned up for breakfast? He expected us to be thrown out on our arses. Must have been a nasty shock to see we were still around."

Harry nodded. "Now if only we could get him back somehow."

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Chrys said, rubbing her hands together gleefully.

However, with Hermione not speaking to the boys, Chrys was struggling to not take sides, which left her little time to plan revenge.

Conveniently, payback arrived a week later by owl post.

Harry blinked in confusion several owls swooped down and placed a slender package in front of him. Ron was clearly curious, and went to unwrap it immediately, but Chrys stopped him.

She had opened the note first, which was from Professor McGonagall, telling Harry she'd bought him a broomstick, and not to unwrap it at the table. Harry and Ron quickly read the note, ecstatic smiles spreading over their faces. Harry scrambled to his feet, carrying the package out through the door.

Ron whooped and snatched it from him. "Let's open it up!" He said, sprinting up the stairs two at a time. "Come on! To the common room!" He raised it up above his head, and promptly got it stolen away by Malfoy. Harry frowned and tried to get it back, but Crabbe and Goyle blocked him.

Malfoy seemed to guess at what was inside, and immediately looked jealous. He tried to hide his feelings by reminding Harry that first years weren't allowed to have broomsticks, so Harry would finally be expelled.

Chrys snuck around Crabbe's back, while Ron distracted them by telling them exactly what make and model of broom this was. She grabbed it back when they became slack-jawed in shock. Ron hazarded that Malfoy probably had an inferior broom at home. This seemed to hit the bull's eye.

Malfoy spluttered and said that at least he could afford a good broomstick—he doubted the Weasleys could.

Ron scowled, but Chrys quickly jumped in, waving at someone coming up behind Malfoy. "Why hello, Professor Flitwick!" She said cheerfully. The Syltherins spun around in surprise.

"Hello, Miss Potter," Professor Flitwick returned her greeting with a little grin. Then he glanced between Malfoy and Ron. He said he hoped they weren't arguing.

Malfoy immediately tattled on Harry.

Professor Flitwick just continued smiling, nodding to himself and telling them that Professor McGonagall had explained the special circumstances to him. He wondered curiously what model Harry had received.

Harry told him, cheekily thanking Malfoy for helping things happen this way.

Then Harry and Ron practically skipped up the stairs, laughing hilariously as Malfoy muttered darkly under his breath.

Harry reminded Ron that Malfoy had been the one who'd stolen Neville's Remembrall in the first place, which resulted in Harry getting on the team, which lead to Harry getting this beautiful new broomstick—

Hermione was standing in the portrait hole, arms crossed, cheeks puffed out in frustration. She did not approve of them getting a reward for breaking the rules.

Harry reminded her that she wasn't supposed to be speaking to them. Ron told her he much preferred when she kept silent, which made Hermione huff and stomp away.

Chrys felt bad. "Maybe I should go and talk to her," she mumbled. Ron shook his head.

"Nah, just give her some space and she'll cool down eventually," he figured. "Anyway, she's not angry with _you_ , right?" Chrys nodded hesitantly. "Then you'll be fine. Come on, Harry, let's get a look at that broom."

Chrys caught sight of Ron's watch. "We better go," she said, "Or else we'll be late for first period."

"Oh Chrys, don't be a downer, let's just—"

"No, she's right," Harry sighed. Ron looked like a dejected puppy. Harry patted him on the shoulder. "We can open it later, that'll give us something to look forward to."

"Thanks for letting me get to class on time," Chrys whispered, as Ron made a show of walking down the stairs as slowly as possible.

"No problem," Harry replied. "I know you've been worried about Hermione getting on your case." Chrys winced.

"Yeah. Hermione was the first friend I ever made on my own. You know, I think Ron likes me alright…"

"I'm sure he does."

"But he liked you first," Chrys finished.

"Ah. I get it. Don't worry, you and Hermione will be fine."

And Harry was right.

Once Chrys got used to having two close friends who hated each other, she became quite adept at splitting her time between the two of them.

Meanwhile Harry had started his secret Quidditch training. His building Quidditch obsession was welcomed wholeheartedly by Ron, but no matter how Harry gushed about the rush he felt when flying, Chrys refused to get on a broom. So Harry and Ron, ate, slept and breathed Quidditch while Chrys spent a lot more time studying than she would have liked.

Still, there were benefits of this. As Harry and Ron were busy, they had no problem leaving Chrys to spend time studying with Hermione. Hermione was a lot more cheerful when she studied, especially now that Ron practically ran in the opposite direction whenever Chrys mentioned the homework.

Another benefit was that, by the time Halloween came around, Chrys had solidified her place as second in the year.

This annoyed Malfoy to no end, as he was only in third place. He and Chrys occasionally leveled out into a tie, but no matter how hard he tried, the Slytherin bully could not best Hermione.

Chrys considered this an added advantage. Surprisingly Hermione did not argue. After what he did to Chrys, Hermione loathed Malfoy almost as much as Harry did. Getting better grades than him was within the confines of the rules, so it was deemed an appropriate form of revenge.

The newfound motivation to study combined with the new exciting topics they were moving on to, made school a bit more fun in Chrys' eyes.

She chatted excitedly with Hermione as they sat down for charms. In fact, many people were looking forward to this class, which put Hermione in a fairly good mood. "I'm glad to see the rest of our house is finally taking an interest in academics," Hermione said superiorly.

Chrys didn't tell her that this was probably only because people enjoyed watching Professor Flitwick making Trevor the toad fly around the room.

"Now," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Today we have a special lesson." A few people cheered. "We will be learning the Wingardium Leviosa charm, which is of course, great fun..." He winked, "But it can also be quite disastrous when the movements and or pronunciation are incorrect." Then he showed them all the correct way to swish their wand, and what parts of the word to put emphasis on. Hermione was listening intently, but many students were otherwise preoccupied. Neville was trying to whisper something to Harry, Parvati was holding up a hand mirror so that Lavender could adjust a clip in her hair, and Ron was sharing a joke with Seamus. "Now, let me split you up into pairs so that we can begin practicing…"

Chrys waved goodbye to Hermione and went to sit next to Neville. "Hi, Nev, how long do you think it'll take for them to start screaming at each other?" She gestured at Ron and Hermione, who'd had the massive misfortune to be put together for this assignment.

Neville winced. "Maybe they'll get along today?" He said, over optimistically in Chrys' opinion.

Dean, who was waiting for Parvati to come back from the restroom, shook his head in exasperation. "I'd like to think that, Neville, but the day those two get along is the day pigs fly."

"Then I'll just have to find a pig and cast this spell on it," Chrys joked. Dean and Neville laughed. Chrys sighed. Honestly though, she'd love for her friends to get along with each other.

Though, as she watched them, she thought this might be too much to hope for. Hermione had made herself the center of attention be the first to complete the spell, while Ron sulked in her shadow.

Then Seamus caused a slight diversion by setting himself on fire. "There he goes again," Dean said, half-amused and half-worried.

"It's okay," Chrys told him. "Harry's putting it out with his hat."

"And at least his eyebrows are still intact this time," Dean noted. Neville poked his feather in a bored sort of way.

"Concentrate, Neville, you can do it…"

By the end of class, Chrys had successfully made her feather float into the air. She thought Neville had almost gotten it as well, but he spazzed out at the last moment, making it shot up into the air and get stuck somewhere in the candelabra.

"I'm sure you'll get it next time," Chrys told him, looking around to see where Hermione had gotten to. She spotted Harry and Ron instead, and rushed over to meet them. As she got closer she heard what Ron was saying.

"It's no wonder no one likes her. She's a nightmare, honestly."

Chrys felt red hot with anger.

What's worse this was the exact moment Hermione showed up, sprinting past them, tears flying from her eyes. Harry quietly pointed her out to Ron, Chrys slapped him over the back of the head, but Ron just said, "Come on, Chrys, it's no wonder why you're her only friend."

"Well it's a wonder that I'm still friends with you!" Chrys hissed, going after Hermione.

Chrys' chest felt tight. She wasn't sure what she was going to say to Hermione when she found her…but that was beside the point, she couldn't find Hermione anywhere.

Just then Parvati came out of the bathroom, frowning and clutching her stomach. "Alright, Parvati?" Chrys asked, just realizing she hadn't seen her roommate since the beginning of Charms.

"What?" Parvati looked up in surprise. She flushed lightly. "Well, yes…it just… I've got really bad cramps." She made a face.

"Oh…" Chrys trailed off awkwardly. They stood there for a moment, pointedly not looking at each other. "I don't suppose you've seen Hermione?"

"Actually, I have." Parvati sounded concerned. "She came in, shut herself in a stall and has been crying ever since. I tried to talk to her, but she told me to go away. Maybe you'll have more luck?"

"I hope so," Chrys said, steeling herself for the difficult conversation. "Can you tell Harry I'll be back in class as soon as possible?" Parvati nodded. Chrys stepped inside the bathroom.

The sobs echoed off the walls. Her footsteps mingled with the sound as Chrys got closer to the stall with two socked ankles showing through the bottom.

"P-Parvati?" Hermione called out between gulps. "I t-told you to g-go away!"

"It's me," Chrys said quietly. Hermione's cries paused for a minute. Then the door swung open. Hermione looked horrible. She stood in front of the toilet, rubbing her red eyes frantically, as snot dripped out of her nostrils and her lips quivered. Hermione stumbled forward and allowed Chrys to cuddle her close. Chrys rubbed her back, not knowing what else to do. Slowly, Hermione's breathing regulated, and the aching screeches dwindled down.

"How can you be his friend?" She finally asked, her voice still shaking slightly. Chrys pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I asked myself the same question," Chrys admitted. "But he's just Ron. He's an idiot."

"That's not an excuse!" Hermione said fiercely. She sat up, untangling herself from Chrys. "Having a brain the size of a pea is not an excuse for being cruel…" Chrys frowned, feeling a little defensive, despite the situation. Sure Ron was an idiot when it came to emotions and subtleties, but he was intelligent in his own way. "You know," Hermione started up again, closing her eyes painfully. "He reminds me of the boys who used to laugh at me in school. They pulled my hair, and threw my books across the room…and eventually it got so bad that my parents made me switch schools…but wherever I went it was pretty much the same, and being in so many schools only made it that much harder to make friends. I was so lonely. My parents considered home schooling, or moving to a new neighborhood, but then they would have to give up their dental practice, and I didn't want to be the cause of our financial support collapsing…I thought I could stick it out in one of the schools, maybe even try and graduate early…" Hermione smiled tearfully. "But then Professor McGonagall came to see us, and she told me that I was special and there was a place where I belonged…and for a moment I believed her."

"You do belong here," Chrys said hurriedly. "You're doing great. You're at the top of the class, and if anyone tries to throw your books I'll wingardum leviosa them up to the ceiling!"

Hermione choked out a laugh. Or was it another sob? "Thanks, but no thanks," she sighed, opening her eyes. "Maybe Ronald Weasley is right…maybe I'm not cut out for this friendship business."

"No, but you're a terrific friend." Chrys bit her lip, wondering how to convince Hermione that Ron was so far from right, that it was laughable.

"I'm not," Hermione said hollowly. "Here I am, stuck in the bathroom, dumping all my problems on you, making it awkward with one of your other friends—oh and now I've made you later for the next class!"

"I don't care. I'll sit here with you all day, if you want me to," Chrys said firmly.  
Hermione stared at her. The slightest of a smile twitched at her lips. "No need…why don't you go to class and take enough notes for the both of us? I'll try to come out when I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" Chrys was hesitant, but she knew how important attendance and notes were to Hermione. If Hermione was too upset to keep up her perfect streak, then Chrys had no right to force her to face the others. Hermione nodded. "Okay then." Chrys stood up and dusted off her butt. "But if you're not out by the time the feast starts, then I'm sneaking some pumpkin pasties back to you. No friend of mine is going hungry if I can help it."

When Chrys got back to class she focused hard on taking notes, completely ignoring Ron's scowl and Harry's worried glances.

The three of them grew steadily more flustered as the day went on, until they were ready to burst.

Chrys kicked Ron's shin.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"You know very well what that was for," Chrys grumbled. "You should apologize to Hermione! She's really upset about what you said."

Ron tilted his head to the side, his mouth opening slight. Then they entered the Great Hall and he caught sight of the decorations. "Wow!" He lit up right away, all thoughts of apologizing flying from his mind. Harry was tugging on Chrys' sleeve, bouncing up and down as he pointed out the real live bats, and talking jack-o-lanterns.

"Harry," Chrys said, gripping his arm.

"Isn't it amazing?" Harry said breathlessly.

"Yeah, spectacular, but right now I'm more concerned about Hermione." They sat down at the Gryffindor table.

Harry was unable to keep a smile from his face as the plates were suddenly filled with a magnificent feast. "I think Ron feels worse about it than he looks," Harry tried to reassure her as Ron cheered and startled shoveling food onto his plate.

"He'd better," Chrys sighed. "If he doesn't, I don't know what—"

She was promptly interrupted the screech of the Great Hall doors opening as Professor Quirrell ran between the tables, shrieking about a troll in the dungeons.

For a moment Chrys thought it was some sort of holiday themed prank. Then the screaming and chaos began. Students stood up and started scrambling fearfully towards the doors, nearly trampling poor Quirrell, who had passed out in the middle of the hall.

Professor Dumbledore brought things to a standstill by shooting purple sparkles into the air.

He told the prefects to take the students back to their dorms. Percy jumped up and started calling out orders immediately.

Harry was shocked into silence. Ron was thinking along the same lines as Chrys, wondering if Peeves had let the troll in as a joke.

Chrys shrugged. "I don't think so. Magical creatures are somewhat of an interest to me, and from what I've read about trolls I don't think they—"

"Shush," Harry cut her off, throwing a hand over her mouth. "You're rambling."

"Yeah, you sound like Hermione," Ron added. "Just let Percy—"

"Hermione!" Harry and Chrys hissed in a terrified unison.

"What?" Ron frowned.

"She's still shut up in the bathroom!" Chrys said. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

"She doesn't know about the troll," Harry added, looking left and right before slowly ducking out of the crowd. Chrys followed, glancing back at Ron questioningly. Ron sighed, but agreed to come along as long as Percy didn't see.

They slipped in with the Hufflepuffs and then snuck off through an empty corridor. "The girls' bathroom is just around this corner." Chrys pointed. She froze at the sound of footsteps. Ron was worried that it was Percy. He grabbed the twins and they all crouched behind a statue of a griffin. "That's not Percy," Chrys frowned. "It's Professor Snape."

Harry pointed out that the teachers were supposed to be going to the dungeons to fight the troll. Why was Snape heading to the third floor? Ron shrugged. Chrys started sneaking forward.

"Wait," Ron said, putting his arm up to block her. Chrys glared. "No, just wait. I think I smell something…"

Harry took a whiff and pinched his nose. "Gross. Smells like toilets and Uncle Vernon's socks."

"And that sounds like Uncle Vernon," Chrys squeaked in fear, as the sound of grunting and heavy footsteps came down the hall. Ron gestured at the far wall, where an enormous shadow flickered ominously.

Harry covered Chrys' mouth again, preventing her from screaming as they caught sight of the disgusting beast.

It was about a foot taller than Hagrid, and would have towered even higher had it straightened its hunched back. It hobbled forward, one huge arm pulling a wooden club across the floor, the other hand reaching up to scratch the grey, hairless, peeling skin on its head.

Chrys felt dizzy from the sight and smell of him. She tried to stay back as it forced its way through a doorway, but Harry and Ron tiptoed after it, dragging her with them. Harry spotted the key in the lock and slammed the door shut. Chrys gasped in wide-eyed horror.

"Open it. Help me open it right now!" She shouted, fumbling with the key. Her hands were sweaty and uncoordinated in her distress.

"What? Did the stench drive you mad or something?" Ron wondered.

A horrible scream rang out from inside the room. "This is the girls' bathroom," Chrys said, finally getting the key to turn in the lock.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron shouted in realization, helping Chrys pull open the door.

The three of them raced inside, just in time to see Hermione, sinking down against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible as the troll grunted and came towards her.

Harry decided to confuse the troll, grabbing a piece of broken sink and chucking it at the monster's head.

The troll stopped, and turned laboriously, eyeing Harry and choosing to come at him instead.

Ron ran over to the other side of the room, shouting at the troll. Chrys loosened a broken pipe from the wall. Dirty water sprayed out all over the floor as Ron threw the pipe hard at the troll. Now the troll went for Ron, leaving Chrys enough time to grab Hermione and pull her towards the door.

Hermione wasn't making it easy. She was frozen by fear, which was understandable, but possibly deadly. Harry grabbed her other arm and hoisted her up, as Ron continued to make loud noises to distract the troll.

Unfortunately for Ron, he was now backed into a corner. Harry took one look at the situation, let go of Hermione, and ran straight at the troll, propelling himself onto its back, hanging precariously by its neck.

"Harry!" Chrys yelled, not knowing whether to laugh or cry as Harry shoved his wand up the troll's nose.

The troll's scream was ear piercing.

It was beyond angry now, moving around frantically, trying to get Harry off its back. Chrys tried to get closer, but Hermione held her arm in a vice grip. Chrys turned imploringly to Ron.

Ron took a deep breath and shouted out the levitation spell.

Chrys cringed, expecting the spell to go wrong.

This time it worked perfectly. The troll's club came soaring out of its hand and slapped against its head loudly. Chrys cheered as the troll fell with a splash.

Hermione finally let go of Chrys, asking if the troll was dead.

Harry announced that it seemed to be knocked out. He pulled his wand out troll's nose, wiping the residue on its trousers. Chrys ran over and gave Ron a tight hug. He was tense and unresponsive, still holding his wand up as if someone might attack at any moment.

"Well done, mate," Harry said, patting him on the back. Hermione smiled encouragingly. "Imagine the points we'll win for defeating a troll!" Harry bounced on the balls of his feet, grinning. Then he stopped suddenly, frowning. "Someone's coming," he announced, raising his slimy wand. Ron gripped his wand more tightly. They turned. A group of professors rushed into the room. Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed together in a thin white line. Professor Quirrell saw the troll and collapsed against onto a toilet. Not for the first time, Chrys wondered how the shaky man had become a Defense professor. Professor Snape knelt down to examine the troll more closely. "Forget about those points, I guess," Harry whispered to Chrys.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall said in a tone so cool and calm that Chrys felt ice build up in her heart. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?" Snape studied them critically. Chrys met his eyes defiantly, which made him scowl.

"Please, Professor McGonagall," Hermione spoke up in a small voice. She told the professors that Ron and the twins came looking for her, because she had gone looking for the troll, thinking she could defeat it and win some house points. Ron dropped his wand in shock. Chrys picked it up automatically, trying to stop herself from smiling. Hermione explained that Ron and the twins had saved her. She'd be dead by now if it weren't for them.

This was the first time Chrys had ever heard Hermione lie…she was so proud of her!

Professor McGonagall took some points off from Hermione, before sending her up to Gryffindor tower to finish the feast with the rest of their housemates. Then she rewarded Ron and the twins five points each…. for their astounding luck.

Harry's mouth fell open, but he closed it quickly, trying to look innocent. He failed epically.

Snape's eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent.

The twins, and Ron quickly scampered out of the room and started up the stairs.

Ron broke the silence by complaining that they could have received more points for their actions. It was good for Hermione to get them out of trouble, but they had saved her after all. Harry pointed out that they were the ones who put her in danger to begin with.

When they came through the portrait hole, Hermione immediately tackled Chrys in a hug, and awkwardly thanked the boys. Harry and Ron thanked her in return. Then they all piled their plates high with food. A few people sent them curious looks, none more so than Percy, but with so much food and excitement, everyone got full and sleepy, and soon the common room was empty except for the four friends sitting in front of the fire.

They stayed like that until the fire was low. Harry's head lolled onto Chrys' shoulder.

"We should get to bed," Hermione suggested. "It's been a long day." They stood up.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, listen, Hermione…I know I said some things and…well, I was wrong…and um…" Ron shuffled his feet, opening and shutting his mouth, but nothing else came out.

"I think that's as close to an apology as you're going to get," Chrys said, amused.

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. "I'll take it," she decided.

"So um…friends then?" Ron said, holding out his hand. Hermione shook it.

"Friends," she agreed.

Harry smiled, patting Ron on the back in a proud sort of way as they moved up the stairs.

While they were getting ready for bed, Chrys got it into her head that Hermione hadn't eaten enough at dinner. She pulled the last bit of her emergency licorice out of her pocket, wiped away the lint, and tried to coax Hermione into eating it.

"Oh, it's nice of you to offer, but I've already brushed my teeth," Hermione tried to say. Chrys continued to poke her cheek with the licorice wand. "My parents are dentists, they wouldn't want me eating sweets at all, and especially not right before bed," Hermione reminded her.

"And I'm sure they wouldn't want you fighting trolls or lying to teachers either," Chrys pointed out. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. "Eat it," Chrys ordered. Hermione sighed and dutifully ate the licorice wand. "There now, that wasn't so bad."

"It's a little dusty," Hermione said, in an act of rebellion.

"Are you insulting my licorice?" Chrys raised her hands to her mouth in mock horror.

Hermione raised an eyebrow tauntingly. "Yes." The two of them dissolved into laughter.


	10. Of Stomach Aches and Distractions

Chrys leaned forward, her breath fogging against the windowpane. She wiped it away with the sleeve of the sweater Parvati had lent her, so she could see the vista she was drawing. She was momentarily preoccupied by the warm softness of her sweater, until Harry accidentally kicked her side. "Hey!"

"What?" Harry looked up from the pages of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. She glared at his foot. He withdrew. "Oh, sorry, just trying to get comfortable."

"This is my window seat, you know. There isn't really enough room for two people."

"I don't see your name anywhere," Harry teased.

"Hmmm…" Chrys dipped her quill in her inkwell, stretching down and scratching the initials _CP_ onto the cold stone beneath the puffy cushions of her favorite window seat. "There." She grinned evilly at him. Harry rolled his eyes and glanced out the window.

"Look, it's Hagrid." He pointed. Chrys squinted.

"So it is." She gathered up some more ink and sketched his large dark form striding across the Quidditch pitch. "What do you think he's doing out there?"

"Defrosting the broomsticks, probably." Harry held up his book." _On particularly cold days, if you forget to defrost your broom before you fly, don't be surprised if you slip right off the end_ ," he read.

"Well, as long as that doesn't happen tomorrow, you should be fine," Chrys said, thinking about his first ever match.

Harry groaned and face-planted onto his book. "I don't know what's worse, people telling me I'll be brilliant, or Malfoy telling me he'll be running around the pitch with a mattress just in case."

"At least we know he cares," Chrys said dryly. Harry snorted.

Just then Hermione came scurrying down the girls' staircase. Her hair, coat, and scarf waved out behind her. Still wrung her hands nervously.

"Sorry," she called out to them. "I couldn't find my mittens anywhere. My fingers are going to get frostbite."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "You know, I think I saw Scabbers snuggling up with a pair of mittens near Ron's bed. Are they light blue with a little snowflake pattern?"

"Yeah, that's them." Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Though, perhaps I don't want them back if Ron's rat has been using them as bedding."

Harry shrugged. "I'll go up anyway. I think Ron's probably fell back asleep."

Hermione watched him trudge gloomily up the stairs. "Is he still worrying about the match?" She guessed. Chrys nodded. "Oh, I wish he wouldn't. He has the perfect build for a seeker, and there are rarely any serious injuries in school matches."

"Well… he has pretty low self-esteem," Chrys admitted. She shut her sketchbook with a snap. "Even if the facts are on his side, he's bound to obsess over all the little things that could go wrong. Basically, he has an overactive imagination. Usually it's kind of funny, but at times like these…"

Ron came down the stairs, yawning widely. He chucked a pair of mittens at the girls. Hermione flailed wildly to catch them, but they ended up smacking her in the face. "Whoops." Ron yawned again. "Scabbers chewed a bunch of holes in them."

"I can see that." Hermione held them away from herself, frowning distastefully. "I guess it's time to say goodbye to my favorite mittens."

"Rest in peace," Chrys said mournfully.

Ron struggled with the clasp on his cloak. "Why do we have to go outside anyway?" He wondered.

"Hermione said it might clear my head," Harry mumbled, casting an anxious look out at the pitch. Chrys agreed. Any sort of distraction would be good for Harry at the moment.

"Oh, well, alright then." Ron nodded, heading towards the portrait hole. "Though if we freeze our bottoms off I'm blaming it on you," he told Hermione.

"Don't you worry about your bottom," Hermione scoffed. "When I couldn't find my mittens I made this." She pulled a glass jar out of her robes. A little blue flame flickered pleasantly within.

"Pretty," Chrys said admiringly. She touched her fingers to the glass. "And warm." Ron held his hands close to test it.

He grinned. "Nice going Hermione."

Hermione fumbled with the jar, almost dropping it before tucking it back into her robes.

As they went through the halls, she kept a hand over her robes, glancing back and forth suspiciously. Harry shot her a questioning look. "Well, _technically_ the rules state that magic can't be done in the halls and courtyard, so I should be able to cast magic in the dorm and bring it out with me…but an argument could be made against it."

"I see. So pretty much we can't let any of the teachers see it," Harry surmised.

"Pretty much," Hermione agreed. Chrys beamed at her. She appreciated how much more relaxed Hermione had become about the rules recently. Just a couple of weeks ago she would've reported herself to Percy for even thinking about breaking that rule.

They walked in circles around the courtyard, chatting comfortably, taking turns hiding the jar of fire underneath their cloaks, and huddling close to the person whose turn it was.

Chrys was pleased to see that Harry seemed to have cheered up a little bit. Stretching his legs, and laughing about the clouds of breath coming out of their mouths successfully took his mind off of Quidditch for a while.

Then Ron was got tired of walking in circles. They placed the jar on a bench, gathering around to block it from view.

"Oh great, here comes Professor Snape," Chrys noticed, jumping to her feet. The others followed suit, trying to look like they weren't hiding a possibly illegal object behind them.

"I wonder why he's limping," Harry said thoughtfully.

"I don't think he sees the fire," Hermione whispered, taking a couple of steps to the left.

"Maybe he won't come over here," Ron hoped.

"No such luck," Chrys muttered bitterly.

Snape didn't see the fire, but he did choose to confiscate Harry's book instead.

"I'll say it again. This is my window seat. It's way too crowded with all of us here," Chrys commented after they'd settled in back upstairs. She tried to poke Harry out of the way. Harry was distractedly looking over his Charms homework.

"Well maybe if Ron didn't eat so much during supper…" Hermione deadpanned.

"Oi! Are you saying that I'm fat?" Ron sounded offended.

"I think that was a joke," Chrys laughed. "Right, Hermione?" Hermione flushed and nodded. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Oh ha, ha."

"Anyway, what's wrong, Harry? Don't you understand the corrections I wrote in?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Hmmm?" Harry blinked as if coming out of a dream. "No… it's fine, thanks for looking it over, Hermione, it's a big help." Hermione beamed.

"It'd be a bigger help if you'd just let us copy off of you," Ron grumbled.

"I told you, you'll never learn if you're just blindly copying my work!" Hermione huffed.

"I was just thinking I'd go get _Quidditch Through the Ages_ back from Snape," Harry interrupted their inevitable squabble.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a doubtful look. "Better you than me," they said in unison.

Chrys glanced at her charms homework. "Well, I think I'm all done with this, so I'll come if you like."

Harry nodded gratefully.

The two of them left just as Ron and Hermione began arguing again.

"One moment Ron, your shoelace is untied."

"Hermione! I can tie my own shoelaces, thank you very much!"

"Well apparently, you can't!"

Chrys snickered to herself as she cleaned her glasses on the bottom of her shirt. "So where are we going anyway?" She asked her brother.

"The staff room," he said immediately. "Snape might be forced to hand it over if we're surrounded by other teachers when I ask."

"…You know, you're usually the pessimistic one, but when it comes to Snape I think you have to be a bit more—"

"What about that slimy git?" George asked, suddenly popping up behind them. Chrys and Harry jumped in surprise.

"In any case, I doubt he'd approve of little firsties sneaking around this late," Fred added with an exaggerated yawn.

"We've still got time before curfew," Chrys argued.

"Details, details." They waved their hands dismissively.

"Just don't get caught by Flitch, he was running around in a foul mood…"

"Even more of a foul mood than usual, that is."

"So watch your backs, little Potters." They grinned and made their way up the stairs.

"We're not that little." Chrys frowned.

"They are taller than us." Harry shrugged. "The staff room's just up here." He stepped up and knocked…no answer. He knocked again, tapping his foot impatiently, and then noticed the door was slightly open. "Maybe Snape left the book in there?" He pushed the door open a little further and gasped.

Snape's leg was bare and bloody, ripped to shreds and barely being held together by Flitch's feverish attempt at bandaging. Snape didn't notice the twins at first, muttering to himself about those blasted three heads. Harry tried to close the door and sneak away, but Snape turned, saw them, and hissed in outrage.

Chrys tugged on his sleeve to go, but Harry bravely (stupidly) asked for his book back. Snape yelled at them to leave.

They ran back up the stairs, taking two at a time, panting heavily as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"At least we didn't lose any more points," Chrys said, once she caught her breath.

"Yeah, Hermione would've killed us."

Ron greeted them cheerfully, and then realized something was amiss. "Wasn't Snape in the staff room?"

"Oh, he was there alright," Harry said, getting worked up. Chrys could practically see the gears whirring in his head. "His leg was injured though. That's why he was limping! And before we left we heard him say something about not being able to get past its three heads…" Harry hurriedly told them his theory that Snape must have been the one who let the troll in during Halloween, in order to steal whatever it was that the Cerberus was guarding, which is why he was heading to the third floor when he should have been in the dungeons.

Hermione was hesitant to accept this idea. Ron, for one, agreed. It was Snape after all.

"Though unfortunately your theory has one giant hole in it," Chrys concluded before Hermione dragged her up to bed. "After all, we have no idea what the Cerberus is guarding, so we can't know why Snape would be after it in the first place."

"Did you see the look on his face though? Snape is definitely up to something," Harry insisted.

As soon as they got into their dorm, Hermione started rummaging secretively through her chest of drawers.

"What's up, Hermione?" Chrys wondered as Hermione pulled a folded up sheet to her chest.

"Promise you won't tell Harry?" Hermione asked hesitantly. Chrys paused, and then nodded. "I needed to finish charming this." Hermione flicked it open. Chrys ooh and ahhed.

It was a beautiful banner with the words _Potter for President_ scrawled across it in large letters, with a lion smiling toothily underneath it.

"Who drew the lion?" Chrys wanted to know.

"Dean Thomas," Hermione said. "I would've asked you, but we only had a bit of time to ourselves when you and Harry were going to the staff room. Everyone has seen how nervous Harry is about his first match, so we all wanted to do something to cheer him on. It's quite good, isn't it?"

Chrys nodded. "Dean Thomas," she repeated admiringly. "What's with those holes though?" She asked, noticing some little puncture marks towards the side.

"The sheet was another one of Scabbers' conquests," Hermione explained. "Ron was complaining about it so I reckoned we could turn it into something more useful."

"...Your attitude is incredibly refreshing after living with Harry for my entire life."

The next morning Harry was pale and wide-eyed. "Trouble sleeping?" Chrys asked sympathetically, filling his plate with sausages.

"A bit," Harry yawned. "My stomach woke me up at around five and I couldn't get back to sleep. It feels like I swallowed a roller coaster."

"Hang on, you feel like you swallowed a _what_?" Ron's knife hovered over his toast, butter dribbling down. Harry didn't answer. He blinked at the blinding sunshine pouring down on them from the ceiling, and sighed.

"It's a muggle entertainment ride thing," Chrys explained briefly. "Maybe you should eat something, Harry. It could settle your stomach."

Harry shook his head. "No thanks. I think it'd just come right back up again."

"Ew," Lavender said from nearby, wrinkling her nose.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Hermione argued, trying to coax him into eating. Seamus and Dean chimed in as well, but Harry just continued to sit there silently with his mouth clamped shut.  
Eventually Chrys resorted to desperate measures, tickling his sides and shoving a bit of toast in his open laughing mouth.

Harry chewed resentfully. Chrys gave him a kiss on the cheek (which he rubbed off with a frown) before heading off to the bleachers with the rest of the spectators.

"Nice job on the lion, by the way," Chrys told Dean as they unfurled the banner and held it out between them.

"Thanks." Dean grinned. "You're always drawing too, right? I'd like to see some of what you've done."

"I'll show you some time." Chrys smiled back.

"Shush! It's about to start!" Seamus elbowed Dean's side as Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams filed out from opposite ends of the pitch, the captains facing off to shake hands.

Flint, the tall, muscular Slytherin captain, shoved past Wood, already testing Madam Hooch's patience.

"Oh I don't like the look of him," Hermione said nervously.

"We've survived worse," Chrys reminded herself.

"I think Harry's seen the banner," Ron spoke up.

"Good." Dean waved down at the pitch. The players clutched at their brooms. Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, and they took off, the red ball tossed into the air and caught right away by one of the Gryffindor chasers. "Wow, this is almost as exciting as watching West Ham play!" Dean cheered. Chrys knew this was a big compliment coming from him.

"I'm touched," Seamus said, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. "Now pay attention."

It was good advice, but hard for Chrys to follow. The game moved so fast that within minutes she had no idea what was going on. Mostly she tried to keep an eye on Harry, but this proved just as difficult, as he had soared way up above the rest of the players, flying slow laps around the field.

"Havin' trouble seein' things, Chrys?" Hagrid's booming voice came from somewhere to her left. She looked over and saw him struggling through the crowd. Seamus moved to give him some space, accidentally pushing Hermione into Ron's lap.

"Oi!"

"Seamus!"

"Sorry, Ron, Hermione." Seamus sniggered.

"Ya can borrow these, if ya like," Hagrid told Chrys once he settled down. She took the binoculars gratefully.

"What about me?" Ron asked enviously. "I want to see what Harry's up to."

"I think you'll be able to see _that_ just fine even without the binoculars," Hermione said, gesturing at Harry who was now taking a magnificent dive head to head with the Slytherin seeker.

"Harry!" Chrys shrieked as the thuggish Marcus Flint rammed into him at the last moment.

The Gryffindor crowd roared up in protest. Chrys could see ever detail through the binocular lenses as Harry struggled to stay on his broom. She could even see Flint's smirk as the snitch got away. For a wild moment she considered chucking the binoculars at the Slytherin captain's head and wiping that smug look off his face, but then she remember her lack of aiming skills.

Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor a penalty shot, but nobody was quite satisfied.

Dean Thomas wanted to send Marcus Flint off the field, and Hagrid groaned wishing they'd change the rules. The commentator, Lee Jordan, sounded personally affronted. "So, after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating--"

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall hissed.

Chrys almost felt grateful in a way. She laughed bitterly at Lee's sour comments, trying to calm down and enjoy the game.

Though it was hard to relax with Harry in constant danger. Chrys stomach kept twisting in knots.

At one point he dodged a feral bludger and nearly fell off his broom again. Moments later his broom started bucking like an unbroken horse. He was zipping about in an uneven way that made Chrys want to grab Madam Hooch's whistle and stop the game.

Chrys clutched at Ron's arm. "Ron, is it possible to lose control of your broom?"

Ron cursed, distracted by Slytherin making a goal. "What? You mean Harry…wow that's weird…but he can't have. Right, Hagrid?"

Seamus wondered if Flint could've done something to the broom.

Hagrid was frowning deeply, his quivering hands balling into fists. He said it would have to be very dark magic to mess with something as powerful as broomstick enchantments.

"I'm borrowing these," Hermione said, snatching the binoculars away from Chrys, nearly strangling her. Chrys ducked out from underneath the strap, wondering why Hermione was searching the spectators, rather than looking at Harry who was now dangling off his broom by one hand.

Ron groaned, not complaining about Chrys' fingernails digging into his arm. Hermione flung the binoculars at him, telling him to look at Snape. Ron gasped. Chrys grabbed the binoculars from him. She frowned at the image of Snape staring heavily at Harry, his pale lips speedily muttering. Hermione decided that he must be jinxing Harry's broom.

By now everyone had noticed Harry's plight. Neville was hiding his face in Hagrid's jacket. Dean and Seamus were standing up and shouting. Ron panicked, wondering what to do. Hermione took the matter into her own hands, slinking off without a word. Chrys glanced back and forth between her two friends, torn between going to help Hermione, and staying to watch Harry. Ron seemed to guess at her dilemma. "Go on," he said, pushing Chrys away. "I'll keep an eye on him."

Chrys hurried after Hermione, barely able to spot her scurrying along the bleachers.

"What can I do?" She whispered in Hermione's ear as they came closer to Snape.

"Distract them," she hissed back.

Chrys nodded, stopping short. She ran in front of the railing near the professors' booth. It was a long way down to the field. She gulped and took a deep breathe. She clambered on top of it, standing tall with her arms outstretched. She heard gasps from behind her, Professor McGonagall's tense voice ringing out, "Miss Potter! Get back into your seat, you foolish girl!"

She heard footsteps and felt hands grasp at her robes, pulling her down just before she jumped out onto the field.

"Now, Potter, I understand that you are upset, but you must not…" Professor Sinstra wrapped her arms around Chrys' waist, lecturing softly. Chrys was not paying attention. A brilliant blue blaze had broken out around Snape's robes. He jumped, trying to stamp them out. "Oh, thank goodness," Professor Sinstra sighed as she looked up, releasing Chrys immediately.

Chrys slumped over in relief. Harry was back on his broom…but her relief was short lived. Now her brother was racing towards the ground at top sped, hands clamped over his mouth, face positively grey.

He tumbled onto the grass on his hands and knees, head lurching… and out came the golden snitch. He held it up triumphantly amidst cheers of astonishment from the Gryffindors, and screeches of protest from the Slytherins.

"That's my brother," Chrys said proudly as Professor Sinstra had finished her lecture.

She ran back to Ron and Hermione, hugging them fiercely. She clapped Neville on the back as he swallowed his tears. Ron was laughing hysterically.

"And by an astonishing turn of events—Gryffindor wins! The final results are Gryffindor's mighty one hundred and seventy points to Slytherin's measly sixty," Lee Jordan announced excitedly. "What a game folks, what a game!"

"Time for a cuppa I think," Hagrid suggested, standing up. Chrys, Ron and Hermione followed the path he made through the crowd, to Harry.

Harry let Chrys snuggle up against his shoulder as they sat down in Hagrid's cozy hut. Harry's stomach grumbled hungrily as Hermione handed out mugs of steaming hot tea. After they finished congratulating Harry, Ron explained how they saw Snape cursing the broom. Hagrid refused to believe that this is what had happened. He said Snape had no reason to do something like that to Harry.

Harry exchanged a look with the others. "Well, to tell you the truth Hagrid… Snape does have a reason to want to keep me quiet." Harry recounted how they found Snape severely injured, and about the Cerberus that must have attacked him.

At this the teapot slipped out of Hagrid's fingers, falling to the floor with a crash. "How do you know about Fluffy?" He wondered incredulously.

" _Fluffy?_ " The four kids repeated, even more incredulous.

Hagrid told them how he'd brought Fluffy off a Greek man in a pub, and then lent him to Dumbledore to guard the…

"Yes?" Harry interrupted excitedly. Chrys shot him a look as Hagrid blinked strongly. Harry smiled sheepishly at Chrys, as Hagrid refused to tell them any more, on the account that it was TOP SECRET.

Harry argued that Snape was clearly trying to steal the whatever-it-was. Hagrid thought this was nonsense. Hermione pointed out that Snape had just tried to kill Harry. After all, Snape had been keeping firm eye contact on Harry, which was essential for a jinx. Ron nodded approvingly at the venom in Hermione's voice.

Hagrid tried to end the conversation by saying that anyway, it was nobody's business except for Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.

"Aha!" Harry and Chrys shouted. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?" Harry grinned evilly.

Hagrid groaned.

That night, Chrys and Hermione curled up side by side, flipping through the pages of _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1_ , whispering about the day's events. "Thanks so much for saving Harry," Chrys said gratefully. "Ron and I were running around like headless chickens, but you really thought on your feet."

Hermione blushed slightly. "Oh well…your solution was quite good too…though nerve-wracking. I was almost as distracted as the professors. Nearly all of them stood up and were staring at you, but Snape was still working his jinx so I did the first thing I thought of and set his robes on fire. Luckily with yours and Harry's combined distraction I don't think anyone noticed me… though I did bump into Professor Quirrell on my way over." She twiddled her thumbs guiltily.

"I don't care about Professor Quirrell's clumsiness, I'm just happy my brother didn't splatter all over the field."

Hermione grimaced. "Well, we'll just have to keep an eye on Professor Snape for the time being."

"And tomorrow we can go to the library and find out who this Nicolas Flamel is," Chrys added. Hermione clicked her tongue, frustrated. "What, aren't you curious?"

"Yes, I am. I just…I've never heard of this Nicolas Flamel person." She seemed almost embarrassed to admit it.

Chrys grinned. "If the great Hermione Granger has never heard of him, then it's all the more interesting."


	11. Of Reflections and Invisibility

"Harry was amazing in the game yesterday!" Parvati gushed to Chrys. She, Lavender and Padma were chatting while they waited for class to start.

"Of course, Patil," Malfoy's mocking voice echoed from behind them. "It was amazing that someone's eyes and mouth could go that wide." He stuck his fingers in the corner of his mouth and pulled outward, eyes bulging. Chrys actually found this somewhat amusing, but as it was Malfoy, she didn't respond. "Next we'll be hearing that a tree-frog has taken over as the Gryffindor seeker!"

"That isn't very funny," Padma commented with her typical bluntness.

Malfoy scowled, furrowing his eyebrows at his entourage. Crabbe and Goyle blinked in confusion. Pansy Parkinson let out a few hollow laughs, but spluttered into a cough when no one joined her. Malfoy stalked away grumpily.

"As if anyone's going to laugh at Harry's Quidditch skills," Lavender huffed. "He was far too impressive for even most of the Slytherins to say anything."

Chrys still worried that people would tease him and deflate his newfound Quidditch pride, but Lavender's assumption proved to be correct.

Over the next couple of weeks the majority of the castle watched Harry in awe. For once he enjoyed the positive attention.

"It's nice to get some recognition for something I actually put effort into…though it still unnerves me when random people run up to congratulate me," he admitted.

"Really?" Ron frowned. "I'd loved it."

"Oh hush," Hermione said, putting the finishing touch on her potions homework.

"Why don't we go out and play in the snow?" Chrys suggested, thinking this would cheer Ron up.

"Yeah, okay." Ron sighed. He complained thoroughly about the biting cold as they waded through the knee-level snow, but he eventually broke into a smile when the Weasley twins invited them to join a snowball fight.

Well, actually Fred chucked a snowball at Ron's head, Harry retaliated, and things just sort of snowballed from there.

Several hours later, Chrys and Hermione became out of breathe and flopped over onto the ground. Chrys started making snow angels. She yawned, watching Neville struggle to lift the head of his snowman onto the proper place. "I wonder if he needs help," she mumbled, standing up and dusting off her back.

Suddenly she was grabbed and pulled into an elaborately designed fort. Her heart thumped wildly until she realized it was Fred and George crouching low.

"Let go of me, you ginger demons," Chrys said lightly, swatting them away.

"We're injured by your words," George said, dramatically swooning.

She snorted. "Anyway…what's up?"

"Thought you'd like to see this." Fred grinned, gesturing at George who was waving his wand at a pile of snowballs.

"Swish and flick," George muttered under his breath. The snowballs levitated and started bouncing off Professor Quirrell's turban, who had unfortunately been passing by. Quirrell spun around, trying to dodge the projectiles, but Fred and George were taking turns bewitching them to follow him around.

Chrys was torn between feeling bad for him, and giving into the laughter bubbling up her chest. Then she saw a powerfully dark look flicker across the normally timid professor's face. "Wow look at that, Professor Quirrell can get angry."

"Really?" Fred popped out from behind a snow-covered hedge to get a closer look. "Oh shit." He immediately stood up and sprinted off in the opposite direction. George did the same, accidentally knocking into Chrys and sending her flying as he went.

"Sorry about that, Chrys!" He shouted, running backwards and nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley! Come back right now and apologize to Professor Quirrell!" A furious Professor McGonagall yelled after them.

Fred's laughter disappeared into the distance.

Professor McGonagall huffed and puffed as she came up to the hedge, her breath coming out in clouds of steam. "I do hope you had nothing to do with this Ms. Potter," she said suspiciously.

"Nothing to do with what?" Chrys feigned ignorance.

Professor McGonagall ho-hummed, not sounding very convinced. "I see," she said. "Well, while I am here I might as well inform you that Christmas Holidays are approaching and if you wish to stay in the castle during that time you must put your name on the list when I come around later today. Otherwise you will return to your place of residence." Chrys' face twisted up unpleasantly. "Then I will expect to see your name on that list Ms. Potter," McGonagall observed shrewdly. "Good day." Chrys watched her go, thinking that only Professor McGonagall could seem so dignified while hiking up her robes slightly and trudging through the thick snow.

"Fred and George didn't get you in trouble, did they?" Hermione asked, rushing over. Chrys shook her head.

"What did McGonagall want?" Ron wondered curiously, popping up nearby.

" _Professor_ McGonagall," Hermione corrected him. Harry rolled towards them, apparently too lazy to stand up.

"She was explaining that we have to sign up if we want to stay in the castle during the holidays." Chrys looked down at him. "Obviously we're going to sign up as soon as possible. I'll write to the Durselys and let them know we won't be back yet. Bet they'll be pleased."

Harry sat up slowly, holding his head. "Wow, dizzy," he muttered. Chrys laughed. Harry shot her a meaningful look. "Are you two signing up?" He asked Ron and Hermione, trying to sound casual.

Hermione frowned, working her boot into the snow. "Sorry. I'll be spending Christmas with my parents."

"Oh. Okay." Harry lowered his head.

"Cheer up, mate. Fred and George, and me, and Percy will all be here," Ron said, clapping him on the back. "Mum, dad, and my little sister Ginny are visiting my brother Charlie in Romania, so the rest of us will just be chilling here."

"Punny." Chrys grinned. Harry groaned, but it was a light-hearted groan, as he was practically glowing after Ron said he would be staying.

"Mind you, though," Ron continued as if Chrys hadn't said anything. "There's nothing cheerful about Percy at Christmas. He lectures about historical significant and stuff. Best to stay out of his way if possible."

"We'll keep that in mind," Harry said, beaming brightly.

 

"Poor owls. It can't be easy with all this snow and cold," Parvati said the next morning, as a few frozen-winged birds arrived.

"Hagrid's nursing them back to health if they get too iced up," Hermione told her with a shrug.

"Still…" Parvati sighed. Chrys was glad Hedwig had the good sense to stay in the magically heated owlery.

She just wished the castle had been charmed in the same way. The Great Hall and the Common Room were perfect with their cheerily crackling fires, but the stone passageways were shivering cold, and the dungeons were a thousand times worse.

The next time they had to go down there for potions, Chrys wore her house scarf and her pointy black hat. Snape took one look at her and pronounced her outfit dangerous for potion making, taking off three points, and then three more when she tried to argue with him.

Chrys angrily shoved her warmer clothing into her bag. "He's not entirely wrong," Hermione said, though more grudgingly than she would have in the past. "Bulky clothing can be dangerous when working with potions. You could catch fire."

"You'd know all about that wouldn't you?" Chrys whispered in Hermione's ear. Hermione flushed.

"Perhaps she meant to catch fire in order to improve her ugly face," Pansy Parkinson giggled manically from behind them.

"Then I don't see why you haven't jumped into the flames of Mount Doom yet," Hermione snapped back. Parkinson looked properly bewildered. Hermione humphed triumphantly. Normally she would have told Chrys to just ignore the taunts, but Pansy Parkinson seemed to always get on Hermione's last nerve. Chrys saw Malfoy, Harry and Ron going through something similar several seats away. "Pay attention to the potion, I don't want Snape taking any more points off!" Hermione barked, angrily chopping up their ingredients.

Chrys was relieved when the lesson ended and they were finally able to leave the room. However, there was a gigantic fir tree in the hallway, blocking the only route out of the bone-chilling dungeons.

"That tree has feet," Neville observed confusedly.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Chrys cheerfully greeted the large feet. 

"Hagrid?" Ron tried to poke his head through the branches. "Want any help?" Chrys looked at the sheer size of the tree, and then back at Ron, and snorted.

"Nah, I'm alright, but thanks, Ron," Hagrid said politely.

"Where are you going with that?" Chrys wondered.

"Well, I'm jus--"

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" Malfoy interrupted. Hermione shot him a look. Malfoy ignored her, smirking at Ron. "Trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose--that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace, compared to what your family's used to.""

Ron jumped at him. Chrys grabbed at him, but before she could do anything, Snape appeared behind them.

"Weasley!"

Ron let go of Malfoy, who huffed and straightened his robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," Hagrid said, sticking his head out between the branches. "Malfoy was insultin' family!"

"Be that as it may," Snape said, sneering down at them. "Fighting is against Hogwarts' rules, Hagrid. Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Now, move along, all of you." He strode away with his normal dramatics, robes billowing. Malfoy attempted to copy his mentor, but ended up getting his clothes stuck in the tree branches. Crabbe and Goyle tugged him loose as Ron laughed darkly.

"I'll get him," he muttered through a clenched jaw. "One of these days, I'll get him..."

"I'm with you, mate," Chrys said, patting his arm.

"I hate them both," Harry added. "Snape and Malfoy." Ron nodded vehemently.

"Come on, cheer up," Hagrid said. "It's nearly Christmas! Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

He set up his tree in the corner, perfectly spaced apart from all the others. Professor McGonagall was transforming the normal floating candles into more festive ones made of glittering ice while Professor Flitwick hung bunches of holly and mistletoe, merrily singing _God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriff_ in a startling baritone.

Harry and Ron grinned at each other, instantly cheered. Hagrid took a load off, sinking onto one of the benches (it sunk down a bit too) as he asked them about their holiday plans. Ron sighed sadly, complaining about missing his mother's Christmas feast for the first time. Hagrid tried to assure him that the Hogwarts cooking would be just as good.

At this Hermione remembered that they only had a half hour before lunch to search through the library. "Oh, yeah, you're right." Ron nodded distractedly, watching golden bubbles grow out of Professor Flitwicks wand and float up onto the tree branches. "Let's go."

"The library?" Hagrid repeated, following them out of the Hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh? Wonder why?" He glanced between Ron and Hermione with a grin.

"Oh, we're not working," Harry and Chrys said together, grinning up at him.

"Ever since you mentioned Nicholas Flamel, we've been trying to find out who he is," Harry explained.

Hagrid abruptly stopped walking. "You what?"

"We just want to know who Nicholas Flamel is," Hermione said gently. "That's all."

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry said to Hagrid, still grinning. "We must have been through hundreds of books already, and we can't find him anywhere. Just give us a hint, I know I've read his name _somewhere_."

Hagrid shook his head, showering nearby students with pine needles from his hair. "I'm sayin' nothin'."

Ron shrugged. "Just have to find out for ourselves then."

 

"He's right though, I never thought I'd be spending so much time in the library," Ron sighed as they walked up the stairs.

"No kidding." Chrys nodded. "I was shocked when you guys were so eager to help us out. I thought you'd sit back and make me and Hermione do all the research."

"Well Hermione can be scary sometimes," Ron muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Hermione turned sharply towards them, her bushy hair smacking Ron in the face.

Ron took two steps to the left. "Er…nothing…nothing at all."

Chrys rolled her eyes.

"The problem is that we don't know what Nicolas Flamel might be known for," Hermione said, as she piled another five books onto the table. Ron groaned and face planted into the giant tome he was turning the pages of.

"You're right." Harry nodded. "And if we consider all the books in the library…"

"…We'll be here forever," Ron finished for him, muffled by the paper squished up against his cheek.

"We could ask Madam Pince," Chrys suggested doubtfully, watching the sharp-eyed librarian replace some books onto a shelf.

"No, no." Hermione shook her head. "I'm sure Madam Pince would be able to bring us the correct book, but we can't risk Snape finding out what we're up to."

"Agreed," Harry and Chrys chorused.

"If only we could look in the restricted section," Harry mused, standing up and stretching.

"Oh but those are the most ghastly books filled with Dark Magic and things," Hermione said. "Besides, we need a signed note from a teacher to even look at those them," she added in a resigned tone.

"Uh-oh…" Chrys said mildly.

"What?" Hermione looked over. "Uh-oh," she echoed.

"What?" Ron glanced up. "Ugh. Harry…"

Harry had gotten up and tried to sneak into the restricted section, easily foiled by Madam Pince who was now chasing him out of the library with a surprisingly heavy looking feather duster.

"I can see by your faces that you didn't have any luck either," he said later when the others joined him.

"Well Madam Pince was glaring at us the whole time," Chrys told him accusingly.

"She asked me what I was doing and I just said 'nothing.' I should've thought up a better excuse," Harry apologized.

"At least it's lunch time now," Ron said cheerfully. There was a spring in his step. Chrys dug into her food, comforted by a full stomach, but melancholy again when it was time to say goodbye to Hermione.

"Promise you'll keep them on task with the Flamel project," Hermione said as she hugged Chrys goodbye.

"I'll try," Chrys sighed. "But really you never know with these two."

"Hey!" Ron and Harry protested.

"We'll be fine, Hermione," Harry assured her, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Anyway, we'll work on it as much as we can," Ron said realistically.

As it turned out there were other things to worry about besides the identity of the elusive Mr. Flamel.

Chrys was very lonely in her empty dorm room so Harry invited her up into the boys' dorm, much to Ron's annoyance.

"McGonagall will throw a fit if she finds out," he grumbled.

"Then let's hope she doesn't find out." Chrys shrugged, piling some of her things onto Neville's vacant bed (which was the closest one to Harry's).

"Dean left us a bag of marshmallows," Harry said before Ron could continue to argue. "Why don't we go downstairs and roast them by the fire?"

Ron heartily approved of this idea. Over the next couple of days he sneaked bits and pieces of food upstairs in his pockets, holding them over the fire on a stick whenever he had a chance.

His second favorite activity was to brainstorm ways of getting Malfoy expelled. "We could put a curse on him to make him smell like a skunk, which will make even the teachers get tired of him and they'll have to throw him out," he suggested, lazily chewing a marshmallow that had Harry tossed into his mouth.

Chrys laughed. "That's ridiculous." 

"It's still fun to think about," Harry said, throwing another marshmallow, missing, and getting it stuck in Ron's hair. Ron pulled it out, wincing, but eating it anyway.

"Eh." Chrys ruffled her hair, feeling kind of bored of so much eating and talking. Her sketchbook was overflowing at this point, so she'd had to go back to scribbling things down on napkins, which were making her drawings very easy to lose and therefore less desirable to make.

"Why don't we do something else then," Ron recommended. "I challenge you to a game of wizard's chess!" He pointed at her dramatically.

"What's wizard's chess?" Chrys wanted to know.

"You'll see." Ron grinned, running upstairs to get his chess set.

Chrys was not very good at wizard's chess. She got way too nervous, retreating whenever her pieces got in danger, which gave Ron plenty of room to advance and crush her.

"Mi'lady you must take _some_ risk if we are to gain against the opponent," her remaining knight chastised her.

So she let Harry take over instead, as he was more reckless, though this didn't do him much good as Seamus' borrowed chess set kept giving him conflicting advice and throwing him off.

"It's a little too violent, don't you think?" Chrys shivered as she watched Ron's knight slice one of Harry's pawns in half.

"Isn't your favorite myth the one where that big god eats all of his children?" Harry pointed out, ruffling his hair as he studied the board.

Chrys waved her hand dismissively. "Titan, he's a titan. And anyway, that's just a story, this feels too real for some reason…I think it's because they move and talk and stuff."

"I wish they would move," Harry muttered, glaring at his bishop who was crossing his arms and refusing to take another step.

"It's cause Seamus' set doesn't trust you," Ron explained as he won again. "If you get your own set you can build a steady relationship and they'll at least do what you tell them to…though honestly that might not be a good thing in your case." Harry nodded, looking disappointed with himself.

That night Chrys had a strange dream where the chess pieces grew life-sized and chased her around the board. She woke just as the knight stabbed his sword into her chest, telling her apologetically that, _"We had to risk someone, and we decided it was_ you. _"_

"Are you okay?" Harry was shaking her awake.

"You were screaming and tossing around." Ron was leaning over her, frowning.

"I'm fine," Chrys yawned. "Just a bad dream."

"Well a very merry Christmas to us," Ron mumbled, collapsing back into his bed.

"Yes it is." Harry smiled. "Guess what?" He tugged on Chrys' sleeve, pulling her to look at the end of Neville's bed. "We've got presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" Ron quipped, sliding out of bed again and coming to sit in front of his own pile.

Chrys laughed, partially at his comment, and partially in shock that she'd actually received presents. Usually Harry scrounged coins up from the couch cushions and bought her a bag of licorice in return for the handmade card she always made him. She opened a smallish parcel first. It was a wooden statuette of a dragon that Hagrid appeared to have whittled himself. Harry blew his similarly carved whistle.

"Sounds a bit like an owl," he noted appreciatively. "And would you look at this, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon actually sent us something!" Chrys leaned over his shoulder to read the note that said the Durselys had received her letter, and enclosed a Christmas present in their reply. Harry peeled off the two fifty-pence notes and handed one to her. "How…nice…"

Chrys snorted. Ron came over with his own stack of presents, intrigued by the muggle money. Harry chuckled and told him to keep it. Then he wondered whom the other presents were from. Ron flushed and pointed out two lumpy packages that he thought might be from his mum. He'd mentioned to her that the twins hadn't expected any presents, so he thought she might've sent something along.

Ron hid his face in his hands. Chrys thought the whole thing was really very sweet. The three of them opened their Weasley packages at the same time. Ron grumbled at the knitted maroon jumper. "She makes them every year, always forgets I don't like maroon."

Harry was touched by the gift, especially the mouthwatering fudge that was included. "This is delicious," he commented, between mouthfuls.

"Yeah, mum's cooking is the best," Ron agreed as Chrys pulled the hazel colored jumper over her head.

"It's really soft," she said, trying to get Harry's over his glasses. He swatted her off and did it himself. "Do you notice she did them to match our eyes? Exactly how much have you been telling your mother about us?" She teased Ron.

Ron coughed and changed the subject. "Ah, thanks for the card, Chrys." He held it up, admiring the little broomstick zip around the page.

"No problem." She grinned. "Hermione taught me a spell that makes drawings move, and I've been having a lot of fun with it."

"I can see that," Harry laughed, gesturing at the image of himself running and jumping around the parchment, trying to catch the snitch. "Here's yours by the way." He tossed her a bag of licorice wands.

"Sorry, I didn't get you two anything." Ron rubbed his neck. "Even Hermione…" He shook the box of Bertie's Beans he'd gotten from her. Harry paused mid-bite on his chocolate frog.

"It's okay," Harry and Chrys assured him.

"I didn't get anyone else anything," Harry added. "It's just a tradition of ours for me to buy Chrys as much licorice as her little stomach can handle."

"It can handle a lot more than you'd expect," Chrys told him, rubbing her hands together gleefully as she saw the second bag of licorice wands she'd received from Hermione. Chrys hoped that Hermione had gotten her card in time. She thought the bookish girl would appreciate the image of Ebenezer Scrooge scowling and shaking his cane up at the viewer. The foreshortening had been difficult to pull off, but it'd be worth it if it made Hermione smile.

"This one's addressed to the both of us," Harry said, picking up a package with _Mr. and Miss Potter_ penned on the front in thin slanted writing. "Want to open it together?" Chrys nodded. They both took an end and enthusiastically tore the paper. Chrys jumped backwards as something silky and silver slid out onto the bed. Harry leaned over for a closer look.

"Wow," Ron gasped. "I think I know what that is…but it's really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?" They asked him eagerly.

"It's an invisibility cloak," Ron said slowly. "Maybe one of you—one of you should try it on." Chrys prodded the cloth hesitantly. It was cool to the touch and smooth like water.

"You go first," she told Harry.

He didn't need to be told twice, grabbing the cloak and flinging it around himself. Chrys shouted out in disbelief. She reached over to the seemingly empty spot where her brother's leg had been a moment before. Sure enough her fingers connected with the silky cloth he'd draped around his body. Harry's head, which appeared to be floating in mid-air, shot Ron a confused glance.

"Look down!" Ron suggested. Harry did and then yelped, rushing over the mirror to get a view of himself. "There's a note! A note fell out of it" Ron picked up a piece of parchment from the floor, gesturing to the matching slanted writing.

" _Your father left this in my possession before he died,"_ Chrys read aloud excitedly. _"It is time it was returned to the two of you. Use it well. A very merry Christmas to you._ That's it. There's no signature or anything else. _"_ She frowned thoughtfully. "Well isn't that short and sweet?"

Harry turned the card over, examining it thoroughly as Ron praised the cloak. "Do you think this really belonged to our father?" Harry asked her roughly. "Did whoever send it really know him?"

Before Chrys could answer the door swung open. Fred and George skipped in grinning widely.

"Merry Christmas!" They shouted. Harry hurriedly shoved the cloak under Neville's pillow.

"Oh look, you two have got Weasley sweaters also!" George said happily. Fred grabbed Chrys' wrist and pulled her closer, examining the stitching on her arm.

"Yours is better though," he complained. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family." Chrys frowned, unable to tell if he was joking or not, and not appreciating his hands on her. She wriggled free as George coaxed Ron into wearing his hated maroon jumper.

"And you haven't got letters on yours," George said, wrapping his arms around Harry and Chrys' shoulders. "I suppose she thinks you won't forget your names. But we're not stupid-we know we're called Gred and Forge." Chrys laughed as she ducked out from under his arm. 

"What's all this noise?" Percy asked, sticking his head through the door. He looked down his nose at Fred and George, eyes coming to rest on Chrys' duffel bag at the foot of Neville's bed. For a moment she thought he was going to report her to McGonagall for sleeping in the boys' dorms, but surprisingly he didn't say anything. Fred took the opportunity to snatch up the Weasley sweater that Percy was holding and force it over his head. Ron caught his glasses as they were knocked off, following the procession of Weasleys as Fred and George marched Percy down the stairs.

"Christmas is for family," George said somewhere down the hall.

"Aren't you coming?" Harry asked her holding out his hand.

 

"Time for the infamous Hogwarts Christmas dinner," George said rubbing his hands together as he scooted over to give Chrys some room on the bench.

"Infamous?" Chrys repeated nervously.

"That's right," Fred said, holding up a Christmas cracker. "Complete with cheeky jokes and everything. Want to try one out Harry?"

"Sure, why not?" Harry took the other side of the cracker and pulled. Chrys covered her ears as an explosion like a canon went off, covering everyone in blue smoke. When it cleared Chrys squealed and pulled a white mouse off her shoulder. She laughed as it jumped down George's shirt and he scrambled to remove it. Fred clapped delightedly, adjusting the admiral's hat that had landed on his head.

"Dashing, right?" He grinned at Chrys.

"Sure, though I think Dumbledore's got you beat," Chrys said, pointing at the teacher's table where Dumbledore was proudly sporting a flowered bonnet.

"I have to agree with you there." Fred nodded.

"Pass the gravy!" Ron shouted.

"Cranberry sauce?" Percy offered politely.

"Harry, you have to try this turkey!"

"Wow, Chrys look, the pudding is on fire!"

"Good thing Seamus isn't here."

"Ha!"

Percy portioned out a bit of pudding for everyone, eyes watering as he took a bite.

"Aw, did ickle-Percy cry because is pudding was so delicious?" Fred teased in a simpering baby voice.

"Shut it," Percy told him, proudly holding up the sickle that had been hidden in his food.

"Look at that." Harry nudged Chrys, who looked up just in time to see a very drunk Hagrid peck a blushing McGonagall on the cheek.

"Gross." Ron wrinkled his nose. "Here, Chrys…" Chrys took hold of the end of the cracker he was offering and pulled. Gold sparkles filled the air, floating a top hat onto Ron's head, and a wizard's chess set onto Chrys' lap.

"Trade you for this," Harry said, holding up a grow-your-own-wart kit.

"No way," Chrys refused. "Why would I want that?"

"Hey, Fred, pull another cracker with me," Harry said, determined to get something Chrys was willing to trade for.

By the end of the meal, Harry had some glow-in-the dark balloons, a wart kit, and a chess set. Chrys had a set of miniature Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, a handsome new quill, and a jar of glittering green ink.

Chrys suggested a nice group walk in the snow to work off their bloated bellies. This quickly turned into Fred chucking a snowball at Ron's face and shouting, "Round 2!"

Chrys was somehow put on a team with Ron and Percy, and nearly lost due to Percy's severe clumsiness, but won at the last moment when the fireworks she shoved in pocket accidentally went off, destroying Harry's well-made snow fort, and exploding colorfully into the air.

"Victory, what a sight," Percy said poetically.

Red faced and exhausted, they slumped into chairs by the fire. Chrys leaned against Harry, her hair dripping steadily onto his arm as he challenged Ron to a game with his new chess set. Percy alternated between giving Harry bad advice and trying to tell Chrys the story of the magical Christmas origin. "Back in the time of the great Wizard Merlin… there was a day of celebration for the…"

She must have dozed off at some point, because she was woken by laughter. She blinked confusedly until Percy took pity on her and told her to go wash off her face. In the bathroom mirror she saw little ink cat whiskers and a goatee drawn out on her face. She tried to scrub it off, but whatever she did a faint mark remained. She swore revenge on the perpetrator.

During their second meal Chrys sneaked the ingredients of Harry's wart kit into Fred's sandwich. Soon after, ugly hairy warts sprouted up all over his face. He laughed just as hard as everyone else. "Good one," he said, winking at her.

"Has anyone seen my prefect badge?" Percy asked suspiciously once they got back upstairs. Fred and George started whistling. "I should have known. Give it back, you two."

"Sure," George pulled it out of his pocket and held it up in the air. Percy lunged for it.

"Or not," Fred said, snatching it and running away. Percy practically growled. Ron started to snore just as Fred and George began playing monkey in the middle.

"Let's go up to bed while Percy's still distracted," Chrys suggested. She and Harry supported Ron between the two of them, tucking him in and then lying down, staring at the ceiling.

"I can't stop thinking about that cloak," Harry said quietly. Chrys pulled it out from behind her pillow. "Can I try it on again?" There was an almost hungry look in his eyes. Chrys handed it over nervously, watching him disappear beneath it. "I bet all three of us could fit underneath it…we could go anywhere and nobody would know," Harry thought aloud.

It was weird to hear his disembodied voice floating around the room. "What are you planning on doing?" Chrys wondered.

"Well the note did say _use it well_ ," Harry reasoned softly. Ron snorted and rolled over in his sleep. Chrys jumped. Harry slipped off the cloak and frowned. "Should we wake him?"

"We don't have to…" Chrys felt a little guilty but… "This is supposed to be our dad's cloak. It would be nice to use it just once before sharing it with someone else. Even if that someone else is Ron." Harry nodded understandingly.

"Come on," he said, slipping the cloak over the two of them. "Let's go on an adventure."

"Alright, you big cheese ball."

They tiptoed downstairs, through the empty common room, climbing over the portrait hole and confusing the Fat Lady horribly. She shouted out for the intruders to show themselves. "The restricted section?" Harry whispered once they were out of earshot. "We could take as long as we like."

"Inspired," Chrys agreed, feeling bad for not doing more research about Flamel sooner.

They held the cloak close as they walked, not wanting it to flutter up and reveal them.

The dark and quiet castle was quite creepy, especially in-between the library shelves, where strange shadows stretched across the ground and book pages rustled in a non-existent breeze.

"I can't see a thing," Harry muttered. "Wait…here's a lamp. I'm going to light it."

"Are you sure? We don't want Filch getting curious as to why a random lamp is floating around the library."

"Would you rather stay in this dark?"

Chrys shivered. "Point taken. Light the bloody lamp."

He did, and the soft glow soothed her nerves. They slipped underneath the rope that blocked off the restricted section, glancing around at the odd titles.

"What language is this?" Harry wondered. Chrys looked at the peculiar little squares and lines that were embossed on the cover instead of letters.

"No idea…it's kind of eerie though."

"Well, we have to start somewhere. What about that one…? Hold the lamp for a minute I'm going to pull it out."

She took the lamp and he reached out, balancing the book of worn brown leather on his knee. The moment it came open a spine-tingling screech rang out from the pages. Harry gasped and shoved it closed, pushing it back into its rightful spot, but the screaming continued. Chrys dropped the lamp in surprise, causing it to go out.

They were left in the darkness again.

Chrys heard footsteps echoing from down the hall. "Run for it!" She suggested, pulling Harry's hand and sprinting forward. They passed Filch on the way out, nearly slamming into his outstretched arm as he groped around for the invisible criminal.

They turned a corner and kept running until their lungs ached. Harry came to a stone-still stop. "I think we're lost."

"I think you're right." Chrys couldn't see anything in the dark, except for the soft glow of a solitary suit of armor.

Harry tried to work it out. "Well there's a suit of armor in front of the Great Hall but that's—"

Chrys slapped her hand over his mouth.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."

The voice of their pursuer came closer. Flich came into view, holding a lamp high. Long shadows fell over Snape's eyes, making him looking even more sinister than usual. He reasoned that the intruder couldn't have gotten far. The two men walked further down the hall, coming close enough to touch the twins. Harry grabbed Chrys' shoulder and pulled her out of the way.

They stood, backs pressed against the wall as they inched towards a door opened ajar on their left. They slipped through it, waiting for the sound of footsteps to pass.

"That was close, too close," Harry sighed. He slumped against the wall, the cloak sliding off his shoulders. Chrys sat down next to him. "Lucky this unused classroom was here… Hey look at that fancy mirror." He gestured at a long mirror, sparkling brightly in the corner of the room. "It'd be fun to _not_ see myself again." He pulled the cloak tighter around himself, only his head visible, bobbing along grinningly to rest in front of the mirror.

Chrys squinted and adjusted her glasses. She could just make out the words _stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ embossed in the golden wood of the mirror's top arc. For the second time that night she lamented her lack of linguistic skills. What did it say? She moved to take a closer look, wondering if there were any clues…

Then she noticed Harry had fallen silent, mouth gaping like a fish. He spun around, cloak floating up to reveal his ankles. His hand fumbled through the air in front of him. "What's wrong?" She asked, fingers slipping down to grip her wand in her pocket.

Harry turned back and stared hard at the mirror. "Chrys…" Without looking away he stretched his arm out towards her. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled up beside him. "Do you see them?" He asked hoarsely.

"See who?" Fear stabbed at her heart. "Harry, it's just you and me in here."

"No, it's not," Harry said firmly. He cringed. "Well, yes it is…but in the mirror I can see…more people. You really don't see them?" She shook her head. He gulped. "Come stand where I'm standing," he suggested. He moved out of the way, somewhat reluctantly, and she went to fill his spot.

She gasped. She had to turn to check that he had really moved, because Harry had left his reflection in the mirror. Only… it wasn't the same Harry she'd known all her life. His smile was brighter than she'd ever seen, his cheeks flushed with a healthy glow. She could understand why the Harry in the mirror was so happy. Between Chrys and Harry's reflections was the reflections of a man who could have been Harry's aged double. The corners of his oh-so-familiar hazel eyes crinkled as he reached down to ruffle their hair. "Dad?" It was him, she was sure of it…but she couldn't feel his fingers in her hair. Disappointment pulsed through her. He couldn't touch her. He wasn't real. This was more painful than she could bear. It hurt worse than those days they'd gone without food, or the sting of Aunt Petunia's resounding slap. In the mirror she could see a gorgeous woman squeezing Harry's shoulder, her tomato colored hair following down in waves. Behind her stood older men and women, smiling warmly, leaning on their canes. These people could have been her family, but now they were merely some kind of cruel afterimage. Chrys wanted to stand there forever, studying every detail of every face, etching the images into her heart…but that was all they were…only images…

"Can I see them again?" Harry asked, bumping up against her shoulder.

It was a struggle for Chrys to look away. Though once she did, once she saw the anguish on his face, she leapt away immediately. She could not help but compare his melancholy to the sweet wholeness of his mirror self. The thought made her burst into tears.

Through blurred eyes she watched Harry stand, palms pressed up against the glass as if he could push his way through and join the others. Eventually she ran out of tears, so she rubbed her sore eyes and told Harry they had to leave. He stiffened at the raw sound of her voice, but still did not turn to look at her. "I know you want to stay, but we need to get some sleep," she tried to reason with him.

"We could sleep in here," he said, sounding completely serious.

"No we couldn't." Chrys shook her head. "Someone would find us and we would get in trouble."

"We'll be back." Harry finally tore himself away from the mirror, engulfing her in the cloak and slipping slowly out of the room.

Once they got back to the boys dormitory, Harry tucked the cloak under his pillow, turning away so that she could not see his face. Her head felt heavy, full of conflicting thoughts. She would never forget the expression on the mirror Harry's face…perhaps because amidst the ghost like images of her family, he was the only one who gave her hope. She would never meet her father, her mother, or her grandparents…but maybe someday the true Harry would smile like the Harry in that mirror. Only, it would be even better, because it would be real. Eventually Ron's snoring lulled her to sleep, despite the gnawing sensation she felt in her heart.

"…And her eyes were the exact same color and shape as mine." Harry's voice was nostalgic for a sight he'd never actually seen. Chrys yawned and sat up.

"Morning," Ron called over to her. "Harry's just told me what you two were up to last night. I can't believe you didn't wake me up." He crossed his arms and pouted.

Chrys laughed and rubbed her itchy eyes. "Easier said than done," she teased him.

"Anyway, you can come see it when we go again tonight," Harry added. Chrys blinked. They were going back so soon?

Ron was excited to come along, though he was more excited about having another day of the holidays. "Hurry up and get dressed though, I want to head off to breakfast."

Chrys grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom, cringing at the puffy redness of her eyes. She knew the moment she looked in that other mirror, she would start crying again. She hoped Ron wouldn't make fun of her.

Down in the Great Hall Ron served them all copious amounts of bacon. "It'll be interesting to see your parents," he commented.

Chrys shook her head. "But we don't know how it works. So we can't know that it'll show you the same thing it showed us."

"She's right. Maybe we can make it show us the rest of your family," Harry told Ron.

Ron shrugged. "You can see them any old time," he said. "Just come round my house this summer." Harry and Chrys shared a smile at how casually Ron invited them over. "Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people."

Chrys chewed at her lip. She didn't like to lie, but something about seeing Harry in that mirror, when he hadn't seen her, felt too personal to reveal.

"Maybe," she sighed.

"Shame about not finding Flamel, though," Ron continued. "And why aren't you eating anything Harry? The bacon's delicious." Chrys frowned at Harry's pale face and the dark circles under his eyes. Harry stared ahead as if he were somewhere far away. She put her hand on his forehead, wondering if he was becoming ill.

Ron thought he looked odd as well, but Harry merely stayed silent, tapping his foot impatiently.

All throughout the day Harry was distracted and irritable, not wanting to play in the snow with Fred and George or search in the non-restricted sections of the library for mention of Nicolas Flamel.

By the time night fell, his nostrils were flaring and his glare was particularly powerful. "Why are you walking so slowly!" He criticized Chrys and Ron for the third time since they had started wandering around to try and find the mirror room.

"It's hard to walk very quickly with three people under one cloak," Chrys argued. Ron added that it was way too cold and they should probably head back.

Harry ignored them, walking on until he found the faintly glowing suit of armor. He flung open the door. When he stepped in front of the mirror Chrys thought he'd finally relax, but he only tensed up more, his eyes just as intensely sad as they had been angry.

"I can't see anything," Ron complained, hugging his arms around himself and shivering violently.

"Let him have a proper go of it, Harry," Chrys urged. Harry grumbled and moved out of the way, allowing Ron to stand in the proper position. "Well?" Chrys asked when Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Did it work? Who do you see? All of your family members? Or maybe just the dead ones…"

"No. I'm alone, but I'm different..." In the reflection Ron saw, he was older, wearing a Head Boy and a Quidditch Captain badge, holding the House Cup in one fist, the Quidditch Cup in the other. For a moment Ron wondered if the mirror could predict the future.

"How could it? All my family is dead," Harry reminded him bitterly. Chrys frowned.

"And what am I, chopped liv--"

"Let me have another look," Harry said to Ron.

"You had it to yourself all last night," Ron said. "Give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch Cup, what's so interesting about that?" Harry snapped. "I want to see my parents..." Him and Ron started pushing each other, their squabbling growing louder.

"Shut up!" She hissed. "I hear something." Ron grabbed the cloak and flung it around the three of them, just in time before Mrs. Norris bounded into the room.

The trio stayed perfectly still. She kept staring at the spot where they stood. It felt like forever before she finally left.

Ron sighed loudly. "I'm not sure this thing works on cats," he muttered, eyeing the silky fabric of the cloak. "Let's hurry before she goes for Filch." Harry glanced longingly at the mirror, but Ron and Chrys seized him on either side, pulling him out of the room and far away from the mirror.

Chrys spent much of the next day losing at chess to Ron, after Harry simply refused to do anything. The last time she checked he was lying in bed, muttering darkly, unable to sleep. "Er Chrys," Ron said hesitantly. "Do you think Harry's gone funny about that mirror?" Chrys bit her lip. "It's just…I have kind of a bad feeling about that thing. I tried to tell Harry not to go again—it's too risky…but he wouldn't listen to me. Do you think you could talk to him, you know, convince him to change his mind?"

"You sound like Hermione," Chrys said, amused. Ron scowled.

"He said that too. Really though, I'm worried about him."

Chrys sighed. "I'll try, but I'm not sure what good it'll do."

That night Harry tried to sneak out without waking Chrys and Ron.

Ron snored away, but Chrys had been lying awake with her eyes closed. She popped up as soon as she heard the rustling of the cloak. "I know you're there Harry," she said, putting on her glasses and squinting out into the darkness. "I won't stop you, but if you're going you should at least take me with you. I'll keep a look out so you'll be a bit safer." He sighed.

"Alright." His hand slipped out from the cloak and beckoned her closer.

 

Harry had just sunk onto the floor in front of the mirror with a heart-aching smile when a gentle voice called out from behind them.

"So—back again?"

Harry jumped. Chrys raised her wand, lowering it slightly when Professor Dumbledore materialized into view, perched calmly on one of the dusty desks.

"Sorry, Harry, I'm a horrible watchdog," she said softly. Though she was almost relieved that a teacher had appeared out of nowhere. She didn't want them to get in trouble, but at the very least Dumbledore might be able to staunch Harry's obsession with the image of their dead parents.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," he commented lightly. He slipped down, gracefully coming to sit on the floor next to Harry, patting a spot near them and looking up expectantly at Chrys. She sat. "So, you two, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror Erised."

"Well we didn't know it was called that sir," Harry mumbled.

"And the word 'delight' is debatable in this case, professor," Chrys said.

"Hmmm…how perceptive, Chrysanthemum. Have you realized what the mirror does? That, I think, would explain the reason for its name."

Chrys shook her head. "It, well, it showed us our family…" Harry said slowly.

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy," Dumbledore added, looking down at them through his half-moon spectacles. Harry blanched.

"How did you know?" The twins asked in unison.

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Dumbledore said shortly.

"That's very cool, professor," Chrys blurted out.

"Why thank you." Dumbledore smiled, looking like he was enjoying himself for a moment. Then he seemed to recapture his previous train of thought. "Ah, but think hard, you two, what does the Mirror of Erised show us all?" Harry frowned.

"Well, I thought there might be a clue in that inscription up top…" Chrys pointed it out. "…But I don't understand the language the inscription is written in."

"English, of a sort," Dumbledore informed her, watching her reaction. Chrys scratched her head, continuing to stare at the looping letters carved on the mirror's frame. "Let me give you another hint. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "So…it shows us what we want…whatever we want…"

"Yes and no," Dumbledore said. "It shows us nothing more of less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts."

"Desire…" Chrys repeated thoughtfully. "Oh, I get it, 'Erised' is 'Desire' written backwards! It's mirror language!"

Harry followed her gaze. "So 'Ishow' 'no' 'tyo'…wait, that doesn't make any sense."

Chrys frowned. "I think…we have to switch the spacing around so it forms actual words. Something like… _I…show…no—not! …your…face…but…your…hearts desire._ "

"I'd give anything to meet them," Harry admitted. "The mirror knew that."

"Precisely." Dumbledore beamed at them. "And Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However…" The corners of his lips turned downward and his bushy eyebrows met at the middle. "This mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "So Ron was right…the mirror is a dangerous thing."

"Yes. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. The mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow. Harry, Chrysanthemum, I ask you not to go looking for it again." He paused. "Though if you ever _do_ run across it, you will now be prepared." Chrys thought that sounded oddly suspicious. "Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry hesitated, his hand hovering over the cloak. "Sir…Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," he said. Chrys laughed. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" Harry asked. Chrys elbowed his side. Harry's insatiable curiosity was acting up again. It was a rather personal question…though she could not deny her own interest…

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks," Dumbledore answered breezily. Chrys nearly laughed again. "One can never have enough socks," Dumbledore continued. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

"Well we'll have to remember that for next year," Chrys said politely as Harry covered them with the cloak.

"Goodnight, sir," Harry said quietly as they excited the room.

"Goodnight, Harry. Goodnight, Chrysanthemum."


	12. Of Information and Intimidation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos!

The day before the term started, Hermione returned.

This came as a great relief to Chrys, who had gotten tired of being the 'responsible' one in the group. They spent their last night of the holidays filling her in on what she missed while experimenting holding different sweets over the fire.

"I'm having that dream again. You know, the one with the green light and that horrible laughter…but recently our parents have been there, and then, just before I wake up they disappear into the light," Harry whispered to Chrys. Ron's brow furrowed.

"I told you that mirror was no good," he mumbled through a mouthful of melted chocolate. Ron seemed to agree with Dumbledore that the mirror could addle a person's mind.

"Though Harry's always been a bit mad, so I don't think the mirror would have that much of an effect on him after all," Chrys joked half-heartedly. Ron snorted, spewing chocolate all over Hermione's arm. She wrinkled her nose and conjured a handkerchief to wipe it up.

"Sorry," Ron apologized.

"Don't bother." She inched away from him slightly. "I should've known not to sit too closely while you were eating. You should really work on your table manners."

Ron frowned. "Why do always have to pick on me? Harry and Chrys are the ones who sneaked out three nights in a row—you should be telling them off instead!"

Chrys and Harry glanced at the ceiling, whistling out of tune. Hermione shook her head.

"I would have be more frustrated if Filch had caught them…but as it stands I'm just disappointed that we haven't found out anything new about Nicolas Flamel." She sighed. "And now that the holidays are over, we'll have much less time to do research."

"Especially after that new training schedule Wood's just posted." Harry groaned.

 

Harry had reason to be annoyed by Wood's rigorous training schedule. The long hours and strenuous routines were difficult enough, but on top of this the rainy season had just started. At the end of every practice Harry came back drenched in rain, sweat, and mud. However, he did admit to Chrys that the schedule had its perks. "All the running around takes so much energy out of me, that I barely even have enough to dream at night. What about you? Are you getting any more sleep?"

Chrys shrugged. "I'm alright. Though I am getting a little bored. There's not much for me to do besides watch Ron beat Hermione at chess."

Harry laughed. "That, I'd love to see."

"I don't think Ron will ever get tired of it."

"Well she's top-notch at everything else, so it'll do her good to lose at something every once and a while," Ron said later on as he set up the board.

"Whatever." Chrys shrugged. "Though the face you make when you're trying to concentrate is kind of amusing." She scrunched her eyebrows together and pouted her lips in an impression.

Ron ignored her, calling across the room to Hermione, "Come on Hermione. We haven't got all day." Hermione put down, _Wizard's Chess: Stories and Strategies_ and sat down opposite him. "Anyway, you're not going to learn much from books. Experience is the real—"

"Hush—let's just start," Hermione cut him off.

Chrys was just starting to get yawn when Harry arrived, leaving muddy footsteps in his wake. "You'll never guess what Wood told us during practice," he said. He ran his hands through his shaggy wet hair, causing it to stand up even more than usual.

"Don't talk to me for a moment, I need to concen…" Ron trailed off, catching sight of Harry's conflicted expression. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

"Gee thanks." Harry rolled his eyes.

"You should take a nice hot bath before you catch a cold," Hermione suggested. Chrys laughed at her mothering tone.

"In a minute," Harry said. He glanced around carefully, and then leaned in closer. "Wood told us that Snape's suddenly decided to referee the next match. Obviously it'll be annoying to have such a biased judge, but I'm more concerned about a repeat of what happened last time."

"Don't play," Hermione said strongly.

"Say you're ill," Ron proposed.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione advised.

" _Really_ break your leg. Ouch! What was that for Chrys?"

She'd kicked Ron's shin. "Don't give him any ideas. Watching him play makes me nervous enough as it is…"

"Sorry, but you'll just have to bear with it," Harry sighed. "There isn't a reserve seeker, so if I back out Gryffindor can't play."

"Well then we'll just have to find someone and force them to sign up as a reserve seeker…" Chrys paused, distracted by the sight of Neville suddenly bunny hopping into the room.

"That's the Leg-Locker Curse," Harry observed as everyone laughed.

"It's kind of impressive he managed to get this far like that," Ron commented. Chrys giggled, but then felt incredibly guilty, jumping up to help Hermione with the countercurse. Neville's legs finally separated back to their normal position. They helped him into a chair. He thanked them shakily.

"What happened?" Hermione wondered.

"M-Malfoy," Neville stammered. Harry growled. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice on…"

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione said at once. "Report him!"

"I don't want more trouble," Neville whispered, shaking his head.

Chrys frowned. "Well…I can understand not wanting to get the teachers involved, but you have to do something about it or he'll just keep targeting you."

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Ron said passionately. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville said miserably.

"That's ridiculous," Harry and Chrys said in unison. "You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry continued. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

"Besides," Chrys said, smiling at Harry as he held out a chocolate frog to Neville. "I'd much rather have you as a house mate than a self-centered bully like him."

"Me too." Hermione nodded eagerly. "You're loads nicer, and that's much more important."

Neville munched on the chocolate frog and brightened slightly. He thanked them before deciding to go to bed early, handing over the chocolate frog card when he remember Harry collected them.

"Who'd you get?" Ron wondered.

"Dumbledore again," Harry told him. "He was the first one I ever—" Chrys grabbed the card out of his hand and pointed excitedly at it.

Harry squinted at it, a grin like hers springing onto his face. "We've found him!" They chorused. "We found Flamel!"

"I told you I'd read the name somewhere before…" Harry said. Chrys saw the words that she remembered Harry reading on the Hogwarts express: Dumbledore's _work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel_.

"Stay here!" Hermione told them. She jumped up and ran towards the girl's dormitory.

"What's she doing?" Ron asked. Chrys shrugged.

"She hasn't looked so excited since when we got the marks back on our first piece of homework," Harry laughed brightly.

She came back, going at an impressive speed considering she was lugging a gigantic book towards them. Chrys sneezed violently when Hermione propped it open. "I never thought to look in here! I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" Ron repeated incredulously.

Chrys rubbed her nose. "You must be the first person to check that out in years. It's so dusty the pages have turned grey!"

"I'll admit it hasn't been cleaned very well—but be quiet both of you, I have to look something up," she said. Ron crossed his arms moodily as she speedily turned the pages. Finally she cried out triumphantly. "Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

"The what?" Harry and Ron wanted to know.

Chrys frowned. "It sounds vaguely familiar but I can't quite…"

Hermione hmphed. "Oh honestly! I know Harry and Ron don't read much, but Chrys, you're obsessed with mythology—you should remember the sorcerer's stone!"

"If it's actually real then it isn't really mythology," Chrys argued, though she knew Hermione had a point. Hermione plopped the book onto Chrys' lap, causing her to sneeze again.

"Read that," she ordered, tapping her finger over a specific section.

Chrys skimmed it. "Blah blah alchemy… _legendary_ … _astonishing powers…_ It seems like loads of people have wanted to make or find a sorcerer's stone over the years, but Nicolas Flamel created the only one currently known to…though _currently_ is a bit of a stretch if you look at the dust that's gathered on this—"

"Chrys!"

"Yes, yes, Hermione... though this text is dusty in more ways than one." She winked. Hermione glared. Chrys cleared her throat. "Basically, the stone creates an Elixir of Life, which Flamel and his wife drink, which makes them immortal so they're well over six hundred years old at this point… oh, and it can also turn metal into gold. Cool."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Chrys' downplaying. "Anyway—I bet the dog is guarding the stone! Flamel must have kept it at Gringotts, but he thought someone was after it, and so he asked his good friend Dumbledore to move it to Hogwarts instead!"

Harry immediately agreed with this theory. "It makes gold and stops you from ever dying! No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

Suddenly Ron started laughing. "What?" Hermione frowned.

"No wonder we couldn't find Flamel in _Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_!" He chuckled. Chrys joined in. Ron distractedly ruffled through the parchment in front of him.

"Ron, the third bullet point says: _essence of dittany_ not, _denseness of Brittany_ ," Hermione peered over his shoulder and corrected his notes.

"What?" Ron looked down at his paper. "Right…yeah…"

"What's on your mind?" Harry wondered.

"Oh, I was just thinking about what I'd do if I had a sorcerer's stone of my own," Ron admitted sheepishly. His ears turned pink, which made Chrys smile, though Harry seemed deep in thought at Ron's words.

"Living forever sounds impressive, but I'm not sure I'd actually want to go through with it," Harry said after a while. "It could get lonely, living forever."

Hermione nodded. "That's the more moral answer, at any rate."

"I don't know." Chrys tapped her quill thoughtfully. "It depends. If you're using your time well, and you've got friends by your side, then it wouldn't be too bad."

"Sounds good to me as well," Ron agreed. "But honestly it'd be the gold that'd interest me more. I mean you could buy whatever you wanted!" Harry frowned.

"If there's anything specific you wanted to buy then you could ask me… I could get it for you as a birthday present or something," he suggested, smiling hesitantly. Ron's face scrunched together.

"Thanks, but no way. I'd rather buy it for myself… anyway, I was thinking if you had the stone you could buy something completely ridiculous like your own Quidditch team. Really, though, the Chuddely Canons wouldn't even be that expensive compared to other teams…" He sighed.

"Huh. Quidditch," Harry mumbled, a curious look in his eye. "I'm going to play. If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them. . . it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win." His tone was confident, but Chrys had been able to read his body language since before they could talk. The tension in his jaw and the little hairs standing up on the back of his neck told her that he was more worried than he was letting on.

In the weeks that followed Harry tried to keep a brave face, but his falsely positive expression was wearing down.

Even the normally upbeat Weasley twins were full of sighs recently. "Sure we'd like to beat the trousers off of Hufflepuff so we could go on to face off with Slytherin and…" Fred told Chrys.

"…It'd be wonderful if we beat them and won the cup," George continued.

"But no one's taken it from them in seven years," they chorused.

"And with Snape refereeing, our chances get worse and worse," George grumbled.

What's more, Harry's paranoia was mounting. Whenever he saw Snape he tensed up and forgot how to walk straight. "I don't know if I'm imagining it, but wherever I go…there he is."

"Well, either way, I'm not letting him catch you on your own," Chrys said firmly, grabbing his elbow and preventing him from walking into a wall.

"He is being extra horrible to you in lessons," Hermione admitted.

"And if _Hermione_ is willing to admit that a _teacher_ is doing something wrong, then it's got to be bad," Ron concluded. Hermione frowned, ignoring him.

"Do you think he knows we know about the stone?" She asked anxiously.

"I don't see how he could…" Chrys bit her lip.

Harry shuddered. "Sometimes I think he can read minds."

"…You've got to get more sleep, mate," Ron suggested.

Chrys doubted he would be able to rest until he played that game. She was almost glad when the days sped by, and they finally escorted Harry down to the locker room.

"Good luck." Hermione squeezed his shoulder so hard he winced.

Ron peeled Hermione's fingers away. "You can do this, Harry."

Chrys couldn't say anything. She thought she'd be sick if she opened her mouth.

Back in the stands Neville was concerned about their odd behavior. "Are you alright?" He asked. Chrys nodded solemnly, gripping her wand in her hand. "Err…but then why have you three got your wands out?"

"Not now, Neville," Ron muttered. He was probably trying to remember the words to the Leg Locker Curse. After Neville had hopped into the common room, Hermione took it upon herself to learn the curse and teach it to the others. They were ready to cast at on Snape the moment he stepped a toe out of line.

"Locomotor motis," Hermione reminded him. Ron told her not to nag.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Neville asked again. Chrys made an unconvincing sound. "Is it Harry?" He guessed. She sighed. "Oh…well don't worry too much, Chrys, if anything goes wrong—and I'm not saying it will! But, um, if it does, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore can set it right."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione sat up so quickly she knocked heads with Ron. He glowered, but Hermione was more focused on the silver bearded man that Neville was pointing at. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" Hermione hugged Chrys so hard, she thought she might burst. "He can't possibly do anything to Harry with Dumbledore watching!"

"Who's trying to do what to Harry?" Neville inquired, startled.

"Ha!" Ron laughed. "Do you see the expression on his face?"

"Who?" Neville's head spun around.

Chrys watched Snape scowl in the headmaster's direction. She felt oddly vindicated even though she had nothing to do with Dumbledore's sudden appearance.

"It's starting," Ron announced. "Look at the—"

Chrys never figured out what Ron was telling her to look at, because at that moment Malfoy 'accidentally' kicked the back of Ron's head.

He smirked at his cronies. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron paid him no attention, all ready focused on one of his brother's perfectly aiming a blugger. Ron laughed happily, even as Snape awarded Hufflepuff a penalty. Hermione was crossing her fingers, chanting Harry's name under her breath. Chrys decided to follow their example. She tried hard to ignore Malfoy's continuous insults, but her head snapped up when Neville suddenly said, "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy." The Slytherin boys merely thought his attempt was funny, but Chrys was impressed.

"You tell him, Neville," Ron mumbled agreeably.

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something," Malfoy continued. 

Ron twitched uncomfortably. His mouth opened, but he was interrupted by Hermione who stood up and cheered.

Harry was zooming downwards. "Has he spotted the snitch?" Chrys bounced up and down in her seat.

"He's probably just saw some money on the ground and wanted to give it to Weasley. You should save him the trouble and offer him a salary for being such a loyal little follower," Malfoy hissed in her ear.

"That's it!" Ron shouted, climbing over the seats and pouncing on top of Malfoy.

"Should I…" Neville hesitated, and then nodded firmly, balling his hands into fists. "I will!" He scrambled after Ron, taking on Crabbe and Goyle all at once. Chrys glanced at Hermione, but the bushy haired girl was too busy cheering for Harry. Chrys shrugged, rolled up her sleeves and went to help.

She dimly heard the crowd roar as Lee Jordan announced that, "No one has ever caught the snitch this quickly! It's got to be a new record!"

Chrys was happy for Harry, but she more concerned about stopping the boulder like fists from crushing Neville. Eventually a disappointed Hermione noticed the vicious tussling behind her, and broke it apart with a zap of lightning from her wand. They stumbled away, clutching their heads. Chrys saw stars.

"Nice job, Neville!" Ron congratulated him, once they could see straight. Chrys punched him friendly like on the shoulder. He groaned and toppled over. "Uh-oh, better get him to the hospital wing," Ron suggested, muffled through the sound of his bloodied nose.

They left him in Madame Pomfrey's capable hands and went to wait for Harry in the entrance hall.

"Harry Potter, where have you been all this time?" Hermione asked concernedly. Harry came in clutching his cloak around him, shivering in the dark of the night. Ron rambled on about Harry's excellent playing, and Neville's spectacular punch, but Harry seemed distracted.

He pulled them into an empty classroom, shutting the door carefully. "When I was leaving the field I saw Snape sneaking into the Forbidden Forest…"

"So of course you followed." Chrys nodded understandingly.

Hermione sighed. "Does the word forbidden mean nothing to you?" 

"It's because it's forbidden that it's all the more appealing," Chrys explained to her. "I've been meaning to sneak into there for months. What did you think of it, Harry?"

"More importantly, what was Snape doing in there?" Ron pressed.

"He was secretly meeting up with Quirrell," Harry informed them, studying their reactions. Hermione frowned thoughtfully.

"Okay…odd place to meet up." Ron was clearly confused. So was Chrys, actually.

"That's what Quirrell thought as well," Harry continued. "Snape said he wanted to keep their meeting private because—get this—because students aren't supposed to know about the _sorcerer's stone_!"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Snape asked if Quirrell knew how to get past Fluffy yet. He also wanted to know what Quirrell's bit of hocus-pocus was. Quirrell denied everything, but he must know something because Snape was obviously threatening him pretty harshly."

"Hocus pocus?" Ron repeated. "What's that?"

"It's a derogatory muggle term for magic," Hermione explained hurriedly. "Actually it's an interesting choice of words for someone like Snape to use. Linguistically speaking—"

"Anyway, go on, Harry, what happened next?" Ron encouraged him before Hermione could start one of her lectures.

"Well then they left, but not before Snape said they'd be meeting up again soon," Harry finished with a dramatic whisper.

"So Quirrell knows something about the stone's defenses and Snape is trying to bully it out of him," Hermione surmised. Ron gulped.

"Quirrell isn't exactly Mr. Willpower," he said nervously.

"You've got a point," Chrys agreed.

"Though he is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, no matter how weak he seems," Harry reasoned. "So it would make sense if he knew some sort anti-dark arts magic that Snape needs to break to get to the stone—"

Hermione gasped. "That means the stone's only safe so long as Quirrell stands up to Snape!" She realized.

"Exactly," Ron sighed. "We'll be lucky if he lasts a week."

"We're doomed," Harry concluded.


	13. Of Dragons and Heat

"He's so pale," Chrys noted.

"He's thinner too," Harry added with a frown.

"Fluffy is still as loud as ever, right?" Ron tried to cheer them up. Chrys nodded. She had been making excuses to pass the third floor corridor, sneaking around to press her ear to the door. She sighed in relief whenever she heard the oddly named Cerberus growl. Though it wasn't Fluffy's strength that was in doubt. "Quirrell hasn't cracked yet, so he must be braver than we thought."

For the past couple of weeks the Potter twins, Ron, and Hermione had been watching over Quirrell like hawks. Harry beamed encouragingly at the professor whenever he walked by.

"Leave him alone," Ron told Fred and George when they laughed at Quirrell's stammer. They blinked in surprise.

"You've never stood up for him before," George said curiously.

"What, do you fancy him or something?" Fred joked.

"Yes and he'll be marrying into your family soon so show some respect," Chrys answered dryly. Ron spluttered in protest as Fred and George dissolved into laughter.

"Well, as far as professors go, I'd rather Quirrell than Snape," Ron said to her.

 

"Snape is as grouchy as ever, so I don't think he's made any progress," Hermione decided when they reached the library. She spread out her pile of parchment and held out her hand. Chrys handed over the box of crayons she'd borrowed from Dean Thomas. Hermione continued carefully color-coding her study schedules.

Harry and Ron exchanged a nervous glance. "Er, listen, Hermione," Harry said. "I really think we should be focusing a bit more on the stone rather than—"

"Rather than the exams that we need to pass in order to get into the second year?" Hermione cut him off angrily. "I should have started studying ages ago…"

"She can study all she wants, but why drag us along with her?" Ron grumbled.

"In a sense of fairness?" Chrys joked, doodling a fire-breathing dragon on the corner of her paper.

Hermione spotted it. "Rather than drawing them, why don't you recite the twelve uses for their blood," she ordered. Chrys fumbled through her books, looking to Harry and Ron for help. They shrugged.

"Um…well I don't really see how they'd get the blood to begin with. Wouldn't extracting dragon blood be rather dangerous?" Chrys tried to logic her way out of giving an answer.

Hermione was unimpressed. "The answer to that is on page 112," she said, passing over a heavy tome. Chrys folded under the weight of it, feeling rather ill as she read through the detailed process.

"The teachers have been piling on the homework so thick, it's a wonder you can keep it all organized." Ron peeped over Hermione's shoulder. Hermione beamed, seeming to take this as a compliment.

"It's simple. Why don't I teach you how to make a chart?"

Ron tried to back peddle. "Ah, no thanks I don't really—"

"Nonsense. First, take out a fresh sheet of parchment…"

Harry turned the page of _One Thousand Magical Hers and Fungi_. "Chrys, what's dittany again? I forgot."

"I think it heals stuff," Chrys recalled vaguely. "Ask Hermione and she'll tell you exactly what page the information is on." Harry opened his mouth to do just that, but stopped suddenly, waving at someone behind them.

"Hello, Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid jumped in surprise. Their table shook. The bookcases nearby rattled dangerously. Madam Pince glared from all the way across the room.

"Jus' lookin'." Hagrid coughed and hid something behind his back. "An' what're you lot up ter?"

"Very subtle change of subject," Chrys said.

"Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?" Hagrid persisted, cheeks slightly flushed.

Ron waved his hand. "Oh, we found out who he is ages ago. And we know what the dog's guarding. It's the Sorcerer's St--"

Hagrid shushed him, looking around nervously. "Don' go shouting about it! What's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," Harry spoke up. "About what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy--"

Hagrid shushed him this time. "Listen--come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh."

"See you then," Harry and Chrys chorused eagerly. When he left, Hermione wondered what he had been hiding behind his back.

"I'm guessing it was a book," Chrys said.

"No, really?" Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron suggested they go find the section Hagrid was in.

"Anything to get away from all this work," he grumbled under his breath. Chrys got up with him.

"Dragons!" She squealed, when they peered at the shelves.

"I think only you and Hagrid would have that reaction," Ron said dubiously. "Well, and my brother Charlie. Let's take some of these back." He grabbed a bunch of the dragon related books at random.

"Hagrid always said he wanted one," Harry recalled when they came back.

"That's no good. It's against our laws," Ron informed them. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that."

"I didn't," Chrys said. Hermione made a vaguely impressed noise.

Ron rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well, it's common sense, isn't it? It's hard to keep the muggles from noticing us if we're raising giant dragons in our gardens."

"I wish we had a dragon in our garden," Chrys breathed.

"What would we feed it though?" Harry was practical for once.

"Dudley would probably make a delicious snack for a dragon," Chrys commented lightly.

Ron snorted. "Anyway, you can't tame dragons. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there are wild ones in Britain as well," Chrys said. "I looked it up the first time Hermione dragged me to the library."

"Of course there are." Ron nodded. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

Hermione frowned. "So what on earth is Hagrid up to?"

"Why don't we go find out?" Harry said eagerly.

"After we're done studying," Hermione insisted.

When Hermione could finally be persuaded to leave her studying, the four of them went along to Hagrid's hut. "That's unusual, the curtains are shut," Harry noted. Ron rapped on the door.

"Who is it?" Hagrid called, his tone anxious.

"Only us," Chrys answered. Hagrid opened the door, motioning them inside, and snapping the door shut behind them so abruptly Chrys' hair nearly got caught.

"Phew, it's a bit hot in here, isn't it?" Hermione fanned her face.

"Boiling," Ron agreed. "Why do you have the fire up so high, Hagrid? It's warm enough without it."

"…Wanna sandwich, maybe some tea?" Hagrid changed the subject, holding out a tray of food.

"No thank you," they said immediately. Hagrid nodded distractedly. Harry cleared his throat.

"So, yeh wanted ter ask me somethin'?"

"Yes. We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy," Harry said bluntly.

Hagrid shook his head. "O' course I can't. Number one, I don't know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn't tell yeh if I could," he said. Chrys pouted. Hagrid chuckled a little. "That stone's there for good reason, Chrys. It was almost stolen from Gringotts..." He looked around at them. "I suppose yeh've worked that out and all? Beats me how yeh even know about Fluffy."

Chrys grinned. "Do you really think you could keep a _cerberus_ from me, Hagrid?"

Hagrid shrugged, though a smile was twitching under his beard. "Suppose not. Doesn't mean yeh'll be hearing anythin' else from me."

"Oh come on," Hermione said, her tone warm and encouraging. "You might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on around here. We only wondered who had done the guarding, really. We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you." Hagrid's chest puffed up.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell yeh that..." He decided. Chrys squeezed Hermione's hand appreciatively. Harry and Ron exchanged an impressed look. "Let's see. . . he borrowed Fluffy from me. . . then some o' the teachers did enchantments. . . Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick,Professor McGonagall..." He counted them on his fingers. "Professor Quirrell... an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone." His brow furrowed. He blinked. "Oh yeah, Professor Snape."  
  
"Snape?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"Yeah..." Hagrid eyed him. "Yer not still on about that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it." Hermione bit at her nails, exchanging a look with Harry.

"But what about Fluffy?" Harry asked slowly. "You're the only one who knows how to get past him, right, Hagrid? And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," Hagrid said, his chest puffing out again.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered. Chrys sighed and nodded. At least they could count on the giant Cerberus to protect the stone from Snape. Harry wiped some sweat off his brow. The heat was nearly intolerable. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, sorry, Harry," he said, shooting an anxious glance at the fireplace. Only now did they see the dark oblong object, resting delicately in the hearth.

"Hagrid, what's that?" Harry wondered.

"Ah." Hagrid stroked his beard. "That's..." Chrys let out an excited squeak and kneeled by the hearth for a closer look.

"Where'd you get it?" Ron peered over her shoulder. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," he told them. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"I wonder why," Harry muttered dryly, exchanging another look with Hermione.

"Yes, imagine someone  _not_ wanting to own a dangerous, illegal creature," she hissed back. More loudly she asked, "But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?"

"Got this outta the library." Hagrid pulled a book out from his coat pocket. Chrys reached out and he handed it over.

" _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ ," she read the title.

"It's a bit outta date, o' course," he admitted. "But it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour." Chrys flipped through the pages.

"Ooh, and here's how to recognize different eggs." She clicked her tongue. "This one looks like a... Norwegian Ridgeback."

"Really?" Ron's eyes widened. "Those are rare."

"I knew he was special..." Hagrid smiled.

Hermione thought it important to mention that Hagrid's house was made out of wood.

"I don't think he's listening," Harry pointed out as Hagrid hummed and stoked the fire.

"Can I help?" Chrys wondered. "I'd love to see a dragon being born!" This got Hagrid's attention.

"Sure, Chrys. Yeh can keep the fire goin' by doin' this." He motioned to show her.

"Chrys!" Hermione protested. "Don't encourage him." Harry laughed nervously.

By nightfall Harry and Ron were miserable. Harry was worried that Hagrid was going to get himself sacked. Ron just wanted some peace and quiet for a change. Meanwhile, after Ron had failed to correctly color code his study chart for the third time…Hermione took over and made them each one. Harry stared cross-eyed at the teeny handwriting she'd used to squeeze in every homework assignment and extra review session. Ron groaned and pulled his jumper over his face. Chrys poked his side. "The weather's getting warmer, you can't hide in there forever," she teased.

Spring was finally springing by the time Hagrid finally sent along a note telling them that the egg was hatching.

"We should skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut," Ron said immediately.

"Yes, let's do that," Chrys agreed at the same time Hermione said, "Are you mad!" Ron argued that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Hermione just wanted to go to lessons and stay out of trouble.

"Professor Sprout will understand if we tell her that we had to go help a friend," Chrys tried to reassure her. Hermione was still worried that someone would find out what Hagrid was doing. So was Harry. He shushed them, motioning to where Malfoy was standing only a short distance away.

"How much do you think he heard?" He wondered suspiciously. "I didn't like the look on his face…" Ron and Hermione continued to debate about whether or not to go all the way down to the Herbology greenhouses. "Why don't we stop by for a short time during the morning break?" Harry suggested. "That way we can at least see how Hagrid is doing." Hermione begrudgingly agreed.

When Hagrid answered the door his flushed cheeks and smile were blindingly bright. The egg was resting on the table, a sharp crackling noise coming from it, like wood cracking in a very hot fire. Little riffs opened in the shell's surface, deepening as Chrys leaned in closer. Hermione pulled Chrys into a nearby chair, her eyes wide.

"It's hatching," Ron said enthusiastically. "Wish I could tell Charlie!" Long, thin claws peeked out from the now gaping cracks, pulling the shell apart completely. The little dragon stumbled out drunkenly, claws scrapping frantically against the table as it struggled to find its balance.

"Not too pretty," Harry mumbled, eyeing the translucent green skin and boney body distastefully. Hagrid disagreed. He thought it was beautiful. He reached out to pet it, but it snapped its fangs defensively. Hermione let out a silent yelp as sparks showered across the table.

"Bless him he knows his mummy," Hagrid cooed.

"Can boys be mums?" Chrys wondered distractedly. Hermione was more concerned about the rate of a growth for a Norwegian Ridgeback. "The book did say that they grow rather quickly." Chrys scratched her head, trying to recall exactly what she'd read. "Wait, who's that?" A white face was pressed up against the windowpane. Harry flung open the door.

"Malfoy," he hissed, watching the Slytherin race back up the hill. Hagrid grew as pale as Malfoy.

"What am I goin' teh do?" He fretted.

"Maybe you should keep an eye on the dragon first," Ron suggested, watching the creature clip-clap his claws across the table.

"Right mus' look after Norbert." Hagrid tightened the strings of his horrible flowery apron. "Don't worry, baby, mummy is here."

Chrys frowned. "Nobert isn't a very cute name."

"I think you're rather missing the point," Hermione said shrilling, her knuckles going white as she clutched Ron's arm. Ron winced. "Malfoy has seen the dragon! He'll definitely report it and Hagrid will get in massive trouble!"

Harry glared into the darkness that Malfoy had disappeared into. "I hate him," he said, not for the first time, and probably not the last either.

 

For the next week the quartet spent most of their time hiding out in Hagrid's hut. Hermione continued studying, though she was having trouble focusing, admitting to Chrys that Malfoy's expression kept popping up in her head. "Ooh I'd like to wipe that smug look off his face," Hermione grumbled, stabbing her parchment viciously with her quill. Malfoy had been extra smiley all week. Chrys glared whenever she saw him, but inside she was grinning just as widely. She _was_ worried about Hagrid, but she was far too excited to be hanging out with a real live dragon to take anything too seriously.

She glanced over to the rocking chair where Hagrid sat with Norbert on his lap, the dragon happily suckling his food out of a baby bottle. Hagrid patted Norbert gently on the back, causing him to burp out flames. Harry narrowly avoided catching on fire and came to sit at the table with the other three. "I tried to convince him to let it go, but he says it's too small to live on it's own."

"Doesn't look too small to me," Ron replied, regarding Nobert warily. Chrys sketched the growing dragon on the edge of Hermione's parchment.

"He has grown about three times as large," she observed proudly.

"That's nothing to be excited about," Hermione argued. "Soon enough it won't even fit in Hagrid's house! And even discounting the Malfoy problem, I'm still worried that Hagrid will get sacked for neglecting his duties. He's been barely working all week! As soon as he named that creature he became way too attached."

"He's gone marbles," Ron agreed.

"Well, he has got a reason for needing to stay indoors. Norbert has to be feed a mixture of brandy and chicken blood every hour on the dot or else he'll go hungry," Chrys reminded them. "Besides, I've heard that most new parents barely have time to sleep much less do other work."

"She's gone marbles as well," Ron stage whispered to Harry.

Harry was still trying to reason through the main issue. "Well, Hagrid knows that he can't keep Norbert forever—"

"What a shame," Chrys sighed.

"So it's just a matter of finding a place where Hagrid knows Norbert will be well taken care of," Harry continued. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. Chrys recognized the look on his face. One of those notorious plans was forming in his mind. "Charlie!"

"Are there any sane people left?" Ron said to Hermione. He spoke slowly to Harry, "I'm Ron, remember?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I know that. I mean your brother Charlie is studying dragons in Romania. Can't we send Norbert to him?"

"Ah-ha!" Ron snapped his fingers in realization. "Brilliant! That just might work. How about it, Hagrid?"

"Wuzzit?" Hagrid, jolted with a snort. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, evidenced by the way he hadn't notice Norbert chewing on his beard.

"Harry suggested sending Norbert to Ron's brother Charlie in Romania. Charlie works at a dragon reservation there. Wouldn't it be nice for Norbert to be cared for by trained professionals? He could have plenty of space to run around, and he'd be surrounded by others of his kind," Hermione said loudly all in one breath.

"Well…I dunno…" Hagrid was hesitant, but Hermione would not let up. "I 'pose we could senda letter ta ask him," he agreed finally.

"Success," Hermione cried, doing a little jig. Chrys laughed, and then stopped abruptly, frowning.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I'll miss him a lot," Chrys said, watching Norbert scratch up Hagrid's chair.

"Er, there, there," Harry said, awkwardly patting her on the back. His lips twitched with a hint of amusement.

The next day Ron curled up in the best chair by the fire and scribbled out a request to his older brother. Chrys nosily read it over his shoulder.

_Dear Charlie,_

_Sorry I haven't written sooner, been busy. I could use your help, but it'd be great if you didn't tell mum about it. Thing is my friend Hagrid (you know, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts?) is trying to raise an illegal baby Norwegian Ridgeback all on his own, and it isn't working out too well. I was wondering if you could take it off his hands?_

_Thanks ahead of time._

_Love,_

_Ron_

"Short and to the point." Chrys bit her lip. "Actually, maybe too much so. Shouldn't you be politer if you're trying to get something out of him?" Ron's ears turned red. He folded up the piece of parchment and stuck it roughly into an envelope Hermione had provided.

"No way. Charlie is cool, he'll always help someone out of a tough spot…especially if that someone is a dragon," Ron explained.

Chrys smiled. "Sounds like a good older brother."

"Hey, what about me?" Harry pouted slightly.

"You're my _younger_ brother," Chrys corrected him.

"You've got no proof of that," Harry argued. Ron chuckled.

By Wednesday night, they still hadn't gotten a reply. Ron and Chrys agreed to go down to Hagrid's hut and help him out.

"After all, who knows how much time we have left with the little guy," Chrys sighed.

"The shorter that time the better," Hermione said firmly.

"I guess that means you definitely won't be coming down with us?" Chrys asked for the third time that night.

"Definitely," Hermione said.

"You neither?" Chrys turned disappointedly to Harry.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not too fond of shoveling dead rats into a fickle dragon's mouth."

"I'll say." Ron shuddered. "I just hope he stays away from Scabbers."

"Oh I don't know, Scabbers is rather chubby and succulent looking," Chrys teased as they made their way down the hill.

"Don't you dare." Ron wagged his finger at her. "You should be glad I'm coming along with you."

Chrys shrugged. "I know you're doing it for Hagrid, not me."

"Well that's true," Ron admitted. "And oi! Careful with the cloak, it almost came off that time." Ron and Chrys were having some difficulty shuffling across the grounds underneath the invisibility cloak. They kept tripping over rocks and branches in the dark, the cloak fluttering up unhelpfully.

"Lumos," Chrys whispered, keeping her wand carefully beneath the silky fabric. They made their way more steadily to Hagrid's door, knocking quickly. Hagrid let them in and set them to work immediately.

Ron was so pale his freckles stood out like chicken pox, but admirably he kept going. Between Norbert's bites of rat, Chrys spent her time getting in a last couple of sketches of her scaly friend.

"Beautiful," Hagrid said appreciatively. "I should get one o' those framed." Chrys blushed happily while Ron shook his head in exasperation.

"Ywoch!" He cried out suddenly. Chrys looked over to see that Norbert had missed the rat and accidentally chomped on Ron's fingers. Ron jumped back, glowering angrily. "Did you see that? The horrible thing bit me!"

"I'm sure it was only an accident," Chrys said soothingly, glancing around for something to bandage up Ron's bleeding hand. She spotted a handkerchief and expertly wrapped it tight around the wound.

"Only an accident?" Ron stared wide-eyed.

"He's jus a baby," Hagrid reminded him. "Doesn't know any better."

"Bollocks," Ron muttered under his breath. Norbert yawned and curled up, apparently pleased with his snack of Ron's flesh.

"How can you hate a face like that?" Chrys cooed. After she made sure Ron's hand had stopped bleeding, the two of them decided to head back to the common room. Chrys wanted to stay a bit longer and help Hagrid get Norbert to sleep, but she admitted her singing voice lacked the proper soothing quality.

"Yeah, I've heard you. You're about as soothing as a banshee," Ron agreed, still bitter about Chrys 'taking Norbert's side.'

Harry and Hermione were much more sympathetic about Ron's plight. Hermione redid the bandage, hurriedly searching through some of her books to see if there were any spells to heal dragon bites.

"I've done as much as I can, but I'm still worried it will get infected." Hermione's brow crinkled as she massaged Ron's fingers.

"It's fine Hermione, thanks for all of this." Ron grinned, obviously enjoying himself. Chrys decided to wait until later to tease him about his how red his ears were.

At that moment Harry pointed out that Hedwig had returned. Chrys gave the bird a loving stroke while they read through Charlie's reply.

"Midnight on Saturday sounds good I guess," Chrys sighed, still a bit sad to see Norbert go.

"Too bad it can't be sooner," Ron grumbled.

"I couldn't agree more," Hermione said. Chrys sighed again. When the two of _them_ agreed, there was no way she could argue. "Anyway, we've been waiting up all night for you two to get back," she complained. "I'm going to bed. Tell me if you need anything else, Ron." She started up the stairs.

"Will do," he called after her cheerfully.

"It's odd to see them so cordial with each other," Chrys whispered to Harry.

"Wait until tomorrow morning. They always find something to argue about."

However, the next morning's argument was not as frivolous as their normal fights. Overnight Ron's hand had gone green and swollen to the size of his head.

"You should go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione insisted. Ron tried to refuse.

"What if she asks what bit me? I can't get Hagrid in trouble just before everything's about to be fixed!"

"But I'm sure Norbert's fangs were poisonous, if you don't go soon, it will only get worse!"

And she was right. Soon enough Ron got dizzy and practically passed out. The three of them supported him all the way to the Hospital Wing, and tried their best to go along with his story that a ferocious wild dog had bitten him.

"I don't think she believes me," Ron said.

"I'm not surprised. It was a flimsy excuse." Chrys frowned. "Are you sure there isn't anything else you need?" She'd left class early in order to come check on him. She was a bit guilty about not taking his bite more seriously before it got so bad.

"You've already fluffed my pillows and gotten me three glasses of water. Any more would be overdoing it," he assured her. "Though I wish my hand didn't feel like it was about to fall off."

"It's not as if you got much use out of it to begin with," a cool voice rang out behind them. Ron and Chrys jumped. She hated Malfoy's mysterious skill of popping up wherever he wasn't wanted. Though…he was rarely wanted anywhere, by her. Ron winced as he hit his hand on the bedpost.

Malfoy laughed gleefully. "Does your brother know you two lovebirds are cuddled up here all alone?" He sneered at Chrys.

Ron huffed. "How did you get past Madam Pomfrey?" Chrys asked, suspicious. She'd had to cry crocodile tears for the stern nurse to allow her inside.

"Simple." Malfoy waved his hand dismissively. "I told her I had to borrow a book from Weasleybee." Malfoy slumped down into an empty chair, lazily stretching out his legs so that he nearly tripped Chrys.

"Mr. Malfoy, have you found what you were looking for?" Madam Pomfrey called from the other side of the room. Malfoy shot her a sleazy smile.

"Almost, Madam." He started sifting through the schoolbooks Chrys had brought Ron earlier. He leaned in close. "Should I tell her what really bit you?"

Ron scowled. "Remember, Malfoy, I can hold my own against you."

Malfoy shrunk back and rubbed his jaw self-consciously. Then he snorted. "Are you going to hit me with your busted up hand?"

"I might." Ron waved his cast threateningly.

"You wouldn't. Not in front of her." Malfoy jerked his head nervously at Madam Pomfrey.

"Keep it up and who knows what I'll do," Ron said darkly.

Malfoy frowned, grabbing one of the books at random and standing up. "This isn't over, Weasley. You will get what's coming to you."

Chrys casually stuck her leg out and tripped him on his way out. He glared over his shoulder, but couldn't do anything more as Madam Pomfrey came to check on Ron.

"It's nice of you to want to visit, but Mr. Weasley should really be getting some rest," Madam Pomfrey said gruffly, watching Malfoy slam door behind him.

"I'll leave as soon as my brother and Hermione come to visit. You know, I'm only in my first year so I might get lost on my way to the common room," Chrys lied. Madam Pomfrey looked doubtful.

"More visitors?"

"They have to bring Ron his school work and notes and things," Chrys added quickly. "It will only be for a short while." Madam Pomfrey turned huffily her expression clearly saying, 'it better be!'

Only after Harry and Hermione arrived did Ron realize that Charlie's letter had been in the book Malfoy had chosen. "Bad luck," Chrys mumbled. "He could've chosen any other book, but _no_ , he had to chose the one book that could get us into trouble."

"It's not the book's fault," Hermione argued. "Ron shouldn't have left it somewhere so accessible."

"It wasn't so accessible to normal people who don't steal things from me," Ron grumbled.

"Well those are exactly the sort of people we need to look out for," Hermione countered.

"Anyway..." Harry raised his hands up between them before they could continue. "What should we do about this?" Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the watchful Madam Pomfrey.

"I told you that Mr. Weasley needs his sleep. You can visit him again tomorrow—now out!"

She practically chased them away. "Well if anything, she certainly is dedicated to her patients," Chrys said.

Back in the Common Room, Harry decided that there was nothing for it but to continue on schedule. It was too late to inform Charlie of a change, and furthermore Malfoy wouldn't be able to spot them if they kept the cloak on.

Later they went down to Hagrid's hut to explain the situation, though Hermione tactfully left out the bit about Malfoy trying his best to ruin their plans.

"I always liked Charlie Weasley," Hagrid said tearfully, trying to tug Norbert's teeth out of his boot. Chrys reached down and scratched behind Norbert's ear, just where he liked it. Norbert released his jaw happily, letting out letting puffs of smoke through his nostrils. He wagged his tail just like an exuberant puppy.

"I will miss him," Chrys said.

"I won't," Hermione muttered, watching Norbert's thumping tail rattle the windows.

"I would feel sorrier for you and Hagrid if I weren't so worried about getting caught," Hermione said later that faithful Saturday.

"I just wish Peeves didn't think he was so athletic," Chrys whispered. The poltergeist was having a tennis tournament with himself just in front of the castle entrance.

"Peeves, Peeves, he's our ghost, if he can't do it, we're all toast," Peeves sang as he swung his racket.

"His songs leave something to be desired as well," she added.

"That's rich coming from you," Harry teased. Chrys elbowed him. He winced. "Okay…he's moving down that hallway, let's go now."

They moved across the grounds, the darkness made even more powerful by the thick cloud covering. Hagrid was just finishing packing up Norbert when they arrived. Norbert was gleefully tearing apart what looked like a handmade teddy bear.

"Ouch." Hermione cringed as the head came off.

"At least he's enjoying it," Chrys comforted Hagrid.

They moved off, Chrys walking awkwardly backwards, Norbert's crate sandwiched between the three of them. "Don't let me trip or we're all done for," she warned Harry.

"Just one more staircase," Hermione informed them, sucking in a large breathe.

"Shush! I heard something!" Harry hissed. Chrys recognized the sounds as a teacher reprimanding a student. Hermione grinned widely when she saw Professor McGonagall, looking glorious in her bathrobe and hair net as she pulled Malfoy along by the ear. Malfoy had obviously come looking for Harry and the dragon, but had gotten McGonagall instead. Luckily McGonagall did not seem to believe his story.

Once they got up to the tower it wasn't long before Charlie's friends landed neatly onto the rooftop. Harry tugged off the cloak and hid it behind a stone gargoyle.

"I'm Adam," the tallest man introduced himself cheerfully, shaking each of their hands in turn. "This must be the Ridgeback." He kneeled down in front of the crate, tipping it over slightly to get a better view. Norbert let out a protective shower of sparks. "Seems healthy enough." Adam grinned.

A girl with dark wavy hair pulled into a high ponytail stepped up. "But where is the young Mr. Weasley?" She asked in a heavily accented tone.

"Er, the dragon bit him," Harry told her regretfully. Her brow furrowed. Adam patted her on the back.

"It's fine, Bianca, adolescent Ridgeback bites aren't nearly as toxic as adult bites. The little Weasley will be fine as long as he gets the proper treatment," Adam reassured her.

"I know that," she snapped, her ponytail whipping him in the face. Adam took a step back. "I just thought Charlie would be upset to hear that his brother has been injured. He cares a lot about his family."

"It's okay, we care about Ron a lot too. Madam Pomfrey is taking good care of him," Chrys said quickly. Bianca's expression softened.

"That is good then. We should be off soon. Will you help us strap the crate to our brooms?"

Charlie's other two friends were just as friendly, though there were some communication issues, as they could only speak in French and Romanian. Eventually Norbert was fastened securely and they took off, four figures impressively silhouetted against the now clear sky.

"Wow," Harry exclaimed as he watched them go. "Bianca's is a natural. You can tell she loves to fly…"

"I'll say, someone is definitely in _love_ ," Chrys teased, nudging his side. Harry flushed.

"Don't be ridiculous."

She made fun of him all the way down the stairs. "More importantly, don't forget that Malfoy's got detention," Hermione reminded them. "Oh I could sing!"

"Just as long as Chrys doesn't join you," Harry laughed.

"Hey!" Chrys pretended to be offended.

Harry froze suddenly. "Uh-oh, I heard someone's footsteps, you don't think McGonagall returned, do you?"

"Almost as bad," Chrys whispered as she saw Filch hobble towards them. There was nowhere to run.

"Stupid! We left the cloak upstairs," Hermione hissed, smacking her palm against her forehead.

Filch beamed down at them like Christmas had come twice this year.


	14. Of Hooves and Hope

"This is almost as bad as the time we released our Brazilian friend into the wild. I didn't think we'd ever get a worse punishment…but I'm sure getting expelled would come pretty close. Oh, how I wish we didn't have such an affinity for rescuing scaly creatures!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Hermione squeaked. Though the room where Filch had dropped them off was quite warmed by the fireplace, Hermione was hugging her arms around herself and shivering. Harry was pacing back and forth muttering to himself. Chrys hoped he wasn't coming up with one of his infamously unbelievable excuses.

"I'll tell you later," Chrys mumbled as Professor McGonagall strode into the room. "Neville!" Chrys cried out when she saw McGonagall leading him in by the elbow. "What are you doing here?"

"I was trying to warn you," Neville told her. "Malfoy said something about a drag—" Harry stepped hard on his foot to shut him up, but Professor McGonagall didn't miss a word.

Professor McGonagall's eyes were practically blazing. Hermione clutched Chrys' arm so tightly she might accidentally tear it off.

"Er… Good evening, Professor," Chrys said. She managed a hesitant smile.

Professor McGonagall blinked. A startled look passed over her face before the stern expression settled in again. "It most certainly is not!" she replied. She demanded an explanation, but not even Hermione had one prepared. The girl who had an answer for everything simply shuffled her feet and kept her mouth glued shut.

As no one could tell her what had happened, Professor McGonagall came to the conclusion that Harry had purposely leaked a story about a dragon to Malfoy in order to get him into trouble, and then Neville had gotten caught up in it too.

Neville stared aghast at Chrys. Her heartstrings tugged painfully. Neville had been loyal and brave, but now he believed that they'd gotten him into trouble for nothing. Though she stood by what they'd done to help Hagrid and Norbert, Chrys felt disgusted with herself for letting Malfoy muck it up.

Professor McGonagall was disgusted by their behavior as well. She assigned them each a detention, as well as fifty points off each. Harry tried to protest, but Professor McGonagall shot him a challenging glare that immediately made him quiet.

They trudged up to Gryffindor tower, with Professor McGonagall's shaming glare on their backs.

"Oh she was so disappointed," Hermione said, her voice cracking a bit as they stepped into the common room. "I'd take any punishment if only she hadn't been so disappointed." Chrys patted Hermione on the back. She knew Professor McGonagall was Hermione's favorite teacher, and her opinion meant a lot to her. And for good reason too. Professor McGonagall was nearly always just and fair. She made her lessons interesting, and she clearly cared about her students. Any punishment Snape could have thrown at them would have hurt less than Professor McGonagall's look of disappointment. Neville sighed.

"Nev, we're so sorry," Chrys said hurriedly, trying to catch his eye. The normally friendly Neville went to bed without speaking or even looking at them.

"It'll be even worse tomorrow. Everyone else will find out we've lost all those points. They'll be livid," Harry added.

He was right. With two hundred points lost, Gryffindor was way past last place in competition for the House Cup.

Chrys looked mournfully at the glass hourglass that only yesterday had been filled to the brim with rubies representing their house's considerable amount of points. She heard people whispering confusedly to each other, convinced it had to be some sort of mistake.

"The first step is denial," Hermione said knowledgeably. "The last step is hatred."

"I thought the last step was supposed to be acceptance," Chrys commented hopefully. Hermione shook her head.

"No one could ever accept such a horrible thing."

"No kidding." Harry sat at the table with his head in his hands. "Neville cried himself to sleep last night."

"Has he let you apologize yet?" Chrys wondered.

"Nope, and I don't blame him." Harry didn't even touch the leftover treacle tart that had for some reason been served with breakfast.

As the day continued the rumors began to spread, the Gryffindors' confusion turned into anger. Once they found out that the Potter twins and two other Gryffindor first years had ruined this year's chance of finally taking away the cup from Slytherin, the Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs joined in on the hatred as well.

In the hallway, Chrys ran into Padma, who sighed and shook her head. "Logically I know you're not a bad person, but emotionally I am very frustrated with you at the moment."

"That's a perfectly understandable reaction," Chrys admitted.

"Boo! Potter, you suck!" An older Gryffindor student shouted out as he passed. Padma frowned.

"Please don't talk to me anymore. My reputation will be ruined by proximity." She paused before she walked away. "Hopefully everyone will be over it by next year," she added, though not as if she entirely believed it.

Ron tried to cheer them up by reminding them that Fred and George lost points all the time and everyone still loved them. Harry pointed out that the Weasley twins had probably never lost this many points all at once.

"I'll never meddle with anything ever again," Harry swore. Chrys snorted, thinking this was extremely unlikely, though she understand his motivations. "Even Quidditch has lost it's fun. The team barely speaks to me, and when they absolutely have to they'll only call me _the seeker_."

"Even Fred and George?" Ron wondered. Harry nodded. Ron frowned. "Maybe I should have a talk with them."

"Don't bother," Harry said. "I think they're just having a laugh. That's better than hating me completely."

"Besides, since when have your brothers done anything you told them to?" Chrys asked Ron.

"You've got a point," Ron admitted.

"It'll take more than a couple of points to fix this," Chrys sighed.

Harry groaned. "Please no puns."

Chrys just wanted him to smile again.

None of them felt much like smiling over the next couple of days. Hermione and Neville weren't famous to begin with, so less insults were thrown their way…but Hermione had become a shrinking violet, refusing any attention, even the praise she usually got during lessons. She stopped raising her hand in class, which took some getting used to for Chrys, who had always been happy to see her friend glow with pride whenever she got an answer correct.

Instead Hermione threw herself even more heavily into studying, dragging Harry, Ron, and Chrys along with her.

"Ugh, this thing itches." Ron was using his quill to scratch his scabbed up hand.

"That's disgusting." Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"What? We're all alone here." He was right. The library was practically empty. The sky was clear and the weather was finally warming up. Most people were studying outside in the sunshine. "No one else wants to hang out with us anyway. All we do is study, study, study late into the night."

"I'm almost glad we've been doing all this studying," Harry spoke up. Chrys put a hand to his forehead.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked in mock concern. Ron snorted.

"Well I for one think Harry's attitude is very appropriate." Hermione nodded approvingly. "After all we—"

"—Only have a week left before exams," the other three chorused, getting a bit tired of her consistent count down.

"By the way, Madam Pince is coming towards us and she looks even more furious than usual," Ron commented.

"Mr. Potter!" The librarian squawked. "You've had _Quidditch Through the Ages_ checked out since November! You must either renew it and pay a fine, or return it and pay a fine."

"I don't suppose there's an option where I don't have to pay a fine?" Harry couldn't help asking. Not that they couldn't afford the fine these days, but old habits die hard. Madam Pince screeched and waved her arms threateningly at Harry. Her billowing sleeves, bulging eyes, and hooked nose made her look like an impressive bird of prey. Chrys absentmindedly thought she'd be rather pretty if she wasn't glaring all the time.

"Okay, okay!" Harry stood up hurriedly. "I'll go get it right away." Madam Pince shot him one last glare and slunk away. Harry looked around at the others. "Anybody want to come with me?"

Ron nodded eagerly, anything to stop studying, but Hermione gave him a pointed look. Ron coughed. "Er, better not…Hermione's promised to quiz me on the astronomy stuff."

"Chrys?" Harry turned to her.

"Nope, I'd rather stay here and watch Hermione torture—um, I mean _help_ Ron."

Harry laughed as he left. "Even a walk to the tower would've been loads more interesting than this," Ron grumbled when Hermione got up to get another book.

"No way, Harry's probably just as bored as we are," Chrys thought

She was wrong. When Harry got back he told them the fascinating sight he'd seen. Snape had cornered Quirrell again, and this time Quirrell had caved. "I was just about to follow them when suddenly I remembered that I'd sworn not to interfere with anything else." Harry rubbed his neck sheepishly.

"Why not?" Ron wanted to know. "This would be for a perfectly good cause."

"Helping Hagrid was a good cause as well, and look where that brought us," Harry reminded him.

"Harry's right. Why don't we just let Fluffy take care of it?" Hermione suggested, nibbling at her fingernails.

"I bet there's a book in here that could tell Snape how to get past a giant dog," Ron countered, glancing around at the shelves. Chrys bit her lip.

"I can't remember the myth exactly…but I'm sure a couple of Greek heroes did make their way past the Cerberus that guarded Hades."

"So we should find a way to save the stone from Snape," Ron said firmly. Chrys smiled fondly at his bravery. Hermione shook her head, her bushy hair flying wildly.

"Why don't we just go to Dumbledore? That's what we should have done ages ago."

"We don't have any proof!" Harry argued. He was right. Tremulous Quirrell would never have the guts to back them up. Snape would walk away from any accusation they made, leaving the stone wide open for the taking. Harry thought it was hopeless. Anything they did would get them into massive trouble. Hermione agreed, though Ron was still adamant about making a move.

Chrys stared thoughtfully at Harry, all through the next hours of their study session.

"Stop it. I know what you're trying to do," Harry said eventually.

"And what's that?" Chrys pouted innocently.

"You're trying to convince me to take a third option, but I'm telling you, there is no third option in this case."

"There's always a third option," Chrys told him, blinking angelically.

Harry sighed. "…I'll think about it," he grumbled. Chrys grinned triumphantly. "And never use that look against me again. I invented that look." Chrys laughed.

"Sure you did."

Time flew by as Harry and Chrys tried to think about how to deal with Snape. The day of their detentions arrived much sooner than Chrys felt was necessary. Professor McGonagall told them to meet Filch at the Entrance Hall at eleven o'clock that night.

"This feels sketchy," Chrys said, holding up a caricature of Filch sneering down at them.

"It is kind of late for a detention." Ron sounded suspicious as he glanced over his shoulder. "Come to think of it, why didn't she mention what you'd be doing?"

"Well whatever it is I'm sure we deserve it." Hermione frowned into her pumpkin juice. Harry nodded in agreement.

Later on they left the common room with Neville in tow. "I hope it won't be anything too difficult," Neville said quietly.

Chrys beamed and squeezed his arm comfortingly. "I'm sure we'll be fine." She was just glad he was finally talking to them again. Neville looked somewhat hopeful, but this all faded away when they met Filch and Malfoy.

Filch spent their entire walk down into the grounds recounting stories of the good old days were students were given medieval punishments instead of detentions.

"...Hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed."

Neville was looking a little tearful. "I can't understand why that man is allowed to work with children," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Our punishment must be something horrible, or else he wouldn't be so delighted," Harry thought. Chrys elbowed him.

"Shut up, you're scaring Neville." Truth be told, she was a little frightened as well. She felt her heartbeat slow to normal when they came up behind Hagrid's hut. She exchanged a relieved look with Harry. If Hagrid was coming with them, then surely it couldn't be too bad.

"I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf?" Filch sneered. "Well, think again, Potters--it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece." Neville moaned. Chrys walked into Malfoy, who had stopped short.

"Oi, watch it!" She said shakily. 

Malfoy ignored her, his full attention on Filch.  "The forest?" He repeated, his voice none too steady either. "We can't go in there at night, there's all sorts of things in there--werewolves, I heard."

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Filch cackled like the muggle sterotype of a witch. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?" Neville spluttered and grabbed Harry's sleeve. Hermione grabbed Chrys' hand in a numbing grip. Chrys squeezed back.

She would have been excited to explore the forest in the daylight. With her friends by her side it might've felt like an adventure. However in the night even innocent figures cast sinister shadows.

Though not all things that came out of the dark were unpleasent.

Chrys smiled as Hagrid walked up to them. Her smile fadded slightly when she saw Fang, drooling as always, and that Hagrid was carying his crossbow and a quiver of arrows.

"About time," he grunted. "I been waitin' for half an hour already." Chrys forced her smile back on, but she must not have done such a great job, because Hagrid shot her a concerned look. "All right there, Chrys?" 

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch put in. "They're here to be punished after all." Hagrid frowned at him.

"That's why yer late, isn't it? Bin lecturin' them, eh?" Hagrid realized. "It's not yer place ter do that." Chrys' grin suddenly became genuine. "Yeh've done yer bit. I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," Filch sniffed. "...For the rest of them." Chrys rolled her eyes.

Malfoy looked up at Hagrid as Filch disappeared into the dark. "I'm not going into that forest."

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," Hagrid said sternly. "Yeh've done wrong and now yeh've got ter pay for it." Chrys grimaced.

"But this is servant stuff," Malfoy argued. "... It's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something. If my father knew I was doing this he'd--"

"--Tell yeh that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid finished for him. Chrys hummed doubtfully. The way Malfoy talked about his father, she thought he was more likely to nag the staff and try and get people fired for doing their jobs--at least, that's what Aunt Petunia would've done if Dudley had faced a similar situation. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on." Malfoy froze. Hagrid nodded vindictively. "Right then. Now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks." Chrys shot Harry a pointed look. He made a rude gesture at her behind Ron's back. "Follow me over here a moment." Hagrid led them to the edge of the forest, where he showed them a slippery substance on the ground. It glinted silver in his lamp light. Hermione leaned over to get a closer look, but shrunk back when Hagrid identified it as unicorn blood. "There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery." Chrys put a hand over her mouth, suddenly feeling ill.

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Malfoy wondered. For once Chrys agreed.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," Hagrid said confidently. Chrys stuck her chin up, resisting that urge to shrink up against Hagrid's side. "An' keep ter the path," he added. "Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

Malfoy called dibs on Fang, wilting when Hagrid revealed his dog's cowardice. He looked even more annoyed when Hagrid paired him off with Neville and Chrys.

Harry shot her a concerned look as Hagrid showed them how to shoot green spots out of their wand if they found the dying unicorn, and red sparks if they ran into any trouble. Chrys twisted a lock of her hair nervously. Trouble seemed to follow her like a shadow. Mostly this just made things interesting, but in a place named the Forbidden Forest, she wouldn't really appreciate the extra danger.

"I'll switch with you if you want," Harry mouthed at her. Chrys shook her head. If Malfoy and Harry were shoved together, there would definitely be trouble. Harry couldn't help but defend himself. At least Chrys could try to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night.

When they came to a fork in the path, Hagrid sent Chrys, Neville and Malfoy to the right while he, Harry and Hermione went to the left. Before they parted Hermione gave Chrys a tight hug and long look, as this was their final goodbye. This was not altogether assuring.

Nor was the fact that Chrys had to drag Fang down the path. He whined and pretty much refused to go on until she coaxed and pleaded for a good five minutes. At any other time Chrys was sure Malfoy would have been sneering and taunting her. However, in this forest they were surrounding by unknown creaking and snapping noises. For a while, the noises shut him up.

First he walked unnecessarily close to her, until she glared so harshly that he stepped over to Neville's other side. Then he bragged loudly about his family's estate and his father's good position with the minister, as if those things could protect him from whatever lurked behind the trees. And there was definitely something lurking. Even when the three of them stood perfectly still to examine the path of blood, Chrys could still hear something moving along. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up…she had the oddest feeling, as if she were being watched.

"Ahhhhh!" Neville suddenly shouted out. Chrys twirled around, waving her wand wildly. Neville had done something similar, swishing his wand in the particular movement that shot red sparks up into the air. Chrys looked carefully, but the only trouble she saw was the Malfoy was gripping too tightly onto Neville. She gave the Slytherin a questioning look. He sprung away from Neville, his pale cheeks going a bright red.

"Um…ha, ha, stupid Longbottom I can't believe you were so scared by such a simple trick," he said with about half his usual superiority.

"Uh-huh." Chrys didn't believe him for a second. Clearly something had spooked Malfoy and he grabbed onto the nearest thing… which had happened to be Neville. She put her hands on her hips. "Great prank, Malfoy. So creative. Now Hagrid is going to have to come all the way over here just because you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"What? No, I was only—I just wanted to…" Malfoy couldn't seem to form a proper sentence.

"Sorry, Chrys," Neville said gloomily as they spotted Hagrid bounding towards them holding his crossbow up. Fang raced happily in his direction. "I'll never be brave enough."

"No, no, Nev." Chrys waved her hand. "... sending up sparks was the right thing to do. Malfoy is trouble. Hagrid should just shoot him with the crossbow."

Malfoy glared silently. "Now what's goin' on here?" Hagrid asked, glancing concernedly between them.

"Malfoy thought it would be fun to scare Neville," Chrys explained shortly. Hagrid looked rightfully disgruntled.

"Well then, let's try this again." Hagrid led them back to the others. Hermione pounced on Chrys as soon as she came into sight.

"We were so worried about you!" She cried shrilly. Harry squeezed her shoulder, which was the only thing he could reach through Hermione's hair. His hair was sticking even more on end. Chrys was sure he'd been nervously running his fingers through it.

"Nice to see you're okay," he said quietly, being sure to give Neville a once over as well. After Chrys explained the situation again, Harry and Hermione looked as if they wanted to set Malfoy on fire (which they might have succeeded doing with just the power of their glares). This time Hagrid switched out Neville for Harry, counting on Harry to keep Malfoy in line. "Don't mind if I do." Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy.

Malfoy gulped and pulled Fang between him and the angry Potter twins.

The silence was more awkward than eerie this time. After about an hour, Chrys couldn't take it any longer. "So…" She said slowly. "What happened with you guys?" Harry looked up at her questioningly. "I mean, did you find anything interesting?"

"Well, it's probably not relevant to the unicorn, but we did run into a couple of centaurs," he told her.

"Ha, there's nothing special about centaurs," Malfoy said breezily, though he had inched closer to Harry as if interested to hear more.

"They seemed alright to me," Harry defended.

"Of course someone like you raised by filthy muggles would think that."

"True," Harry and Chrys said in unison. They were not about to get defensive about the Dursleys. Malfoy's face twisted in confusion. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "Anyway," Harry continued, as if Malfoy weren't there. "Don't you think the blood is getting thicker?" He pointed to the trail they were following. Chrys nodded. Indeed, the silvery mess looked considerably more…gloopy. Malfoy took a step forward to get a closer look, accidentally treading on Fang's tail. The poor dog yelped and raced in the opposite direction, disappearing into a bush.

Malfoy regained his balanced and straightened up. "I meant to do that."

"Sure you did." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Bloody hell," Chrys muttered. "He's nowhere in sight."

"Why don't we go after him?" Harry suggested, looking concerned.

"Hmm…how about I go after him and you two stay right here?"

Harry frowned. "You shouldn't go alone."

"But if we all leave the path then we'll all be lost and we'll have to send up red sparks again and we'll never find the injured unicorn. Whereas if you stay here then I can probably find my way back to you."

"How sweet," Malfoy said sarcastically.

"Shut it, Malfoy." Harry was completely out of patience. "You can go, but if it takes you longer than five minutes then I'm sending up red sparks and coming after you. I don't care how long we have to be out here. Okay?"

"Okay." Chrys sighed. She wished Harry would give her a little more leeway sometimes. Seriously, five minutes? That was a highly unrealistic expectation. "Make it ten minutes though." Harry looked as if he were about to argue, so she waved and walked away, quietly whispering, " _Lumos_ ," as she ducked into the foliage. "Fang!" She called, keeping her voice as warm and inviting as possible. "Fang, come here!" Soon enough she heard the familiar whimpering. Chrys gritted her teeth and raised her wand before rushing towards him. She wondered what Fang had gotten himself into this time. With his threshold for fear, it was possible that he'd just ran into a spooky looking branch but…this forest did seem to be filled with plenty of legitimately scary things.

The thick brambles swallowed up the moonlight. Here there was no path of glimmering unicorn blood to help her find her way. Only the hesitant light of her wand made her able to see her nose in front of her face. Further off she saw two silhouettes, one straight backed and tall, another smaller and wrinkly. She hopped the smaller of the two was Fang. She called his name again, and sure enough he turned, racing towards her. She allowed him to lean his paws on her shoulders and lick her face all over, relieved to have found him at last. Still, she was rather concerned about the other mysterious form, standing so still in the distance. "Hello? Who's there?" She asked.

"I am Firenze," a deep voice answered. "Are you lost?" Chrys squinted in the night, raising her wand higher. She slowly inched closer, catching sight of a muscular chest and four glistening hooves at the end of four long legs.

"You're a centaur," she said. She winced. "I mean duh, obviously you're a centaur."

"Yes." She swore she saw the slightest curve of a smile on Firenze's face. "Are you lost?" He repeated. "This is not a good place to wander alone."

"I'm not alone," Chrys said quickly, patting Fang on the head. Firenze raised an eyebrow.

"I see. Well, if you would care for some more company, I could escort you back to your friends."

"I don't know." Chrys was never big on trusting strangers. "I'm sure I could find my own way back."

"So you believe that you can make your own path in life?" Firenze asked curiously. He glanced slightly at the sky. "My people tend to leave it up to fate. We read the stars and wait for the predictions to pass into the present."

"That sounds rather boring," Chrys couldn't help but say. She winced again. "Sorry, it was rude of me to insult your way of life."

Firenze's voice was still soft and gentle, his expression impassive. "I do not mind hearing the opinions of others."

"Well let me hear some of _your_ opinions then…what do the stars tell you now?" Chrys wondered, glancing up at the sky but only seeing pretty lights with names and myths connected to her astronomy lessons.

"Mars becomes brighter every day. There was a time in the past when it was like this as well. Can you guess at it's meaning?"

Somehow Chrys felt that this Firenze would get along very well with the enigmatic Dumbledore. Even his eyes were a similar piercing blue. "Um…well Mars is the Roman god of war so…could that have anything to do with it?"

Firenze gave her another half smile. He might have told her more, but before he could a blinding hot pain seared at her forehead. It was worse than it had been during any headache or nightmare. The only thing she could compare it to was the time during the opening feast when her and Harry's scars had simultaneously burst into pain.

But this was much worse.

She crumbled onto the ground, panting heavily, clutching at her head. Her vision swam, and she could only just make out a concerned Fang licking the cold sweat off of her forehead.

"What has happened?" She heard Firenze's cool voice ask.

"I—I think something's happened to Harry," she told him, gulping for air. For some reason it was difficult to breath. She tried to stumble to her feet, feeling Firenze's strong arms catch and steady her. "I need to get to him." Her heart was pounding in her ears, her glasses were blurred with sweat and tears…

" _Now_ will you let me escort you?" Firenze asked. She could hear the slight annoyance in his previously emotionless tone.

"Yes. Please. Take me to him," she managed to get out. Firenze's long fingers shifted to her armpits, pulling her gracefully onto his back.

"Hold tight to my shoulders and lower your head," he advised her. She did so and he raced off, his hooves sounding like a herd of horses rather than just one centaur.

"What about Fang?" She asked confusedly, hearing his barking in the distance.

"The dog will find his master," Firenze assured her. "At the moment we are needed elsewhere."

The pain increased the further they went, making Chrys certain that they were getting closer to Harry's location. She felt even more sure that he was in deep trouble, and he needed her help. Chrys chewed on her lip, trying to ignore the nausea and dizziness. Then Firenze took a leap and Chrys flew upward, slamming down onto his back hard, tasting blood in her mouth. The cut on her lip would have hurt worse, had her scar not suddenly become molten lava that burned her entire body. Firenze picked up speed, rocking onto his hind legs and thrashing his front ones.

Chrys caught a glimpse of a dark cloaked figure staggering away. Even just the short look increased her pain tenfold, but she no longer cared because now she could see Harry. He was struggling to his feet, and breathing heavily, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. She jumped off the centaur's back, falling into her brother's arms. She held his face and kissed it so many times that she felt like Fang. Normally Harry would have shied away from such affection, but in that moment he only pulled her closer, his fingers tangled in her hair, his gentle sigh in her ear.

"Thank you so much," Chrys told Firenze after she had stopped crying. She cringed as she patted the large wet spot on Harry's shirt. "Firenze this is my brother Harry," she introduced. "Harry this is Firenze, he saved us both."

"Yes thank you," Harry repeated, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Um…what was that thing?" He jerked his head at the trees the dark figure had slunk off through. Chrys only now noticed the unicorn's pure white corpse spread out on the floor of the forest clearing.

"Oh!" She cried out in surprise.

"It was drinking the unicorn's blood," Harry told her. Chrys, who had been feeling feverish until now, suddenly felt her own blood run cold. Harry frowned and squeezed her hand in his.

"Maybe we should try to find Hagrid now?" She suggested.

"Yes," Firenze agreed. "It is not safe in the forest, especially for you two." His large eyes pinned Chrys down. "It would be faster if I took you to him."

"Oh alright. I admit that you are very fast and you don't seem to get lost nearly as often as I do," she said lightly.

Firenze bent low to allow them to climb up onto his back. Chrys sat in front with Harry uncomfortably wrapping his arms around her waist. Then there was the sound of hooves, and two more centaurs rode into the clearing.

"Firenze!" One of them called out, sounding angry. "What are you doing? You have humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"That's Bane," Harry whispered to her.

"Do you realize who they are?" Firenze said. "They are the Potter children. The quicker they leave this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling them?" Bane growled. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

The other centaur kicked nervously at the ground.

"Ronan," Harry told her.

"I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," Ronan said. Bane kicked his hind legs.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

"Look," Chrys spoke up, her voice a little shaky. "We're very grateful for the help, Mr. Firenze, but we don't want to cause any trouble. You can just let us down and we'll--"

Firenze reared up onto his hind legs, Chrys and Harry scrambling for purchase so they didn't go sliding off.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze snapped as he settled back onto all fours. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

He left the clearing stomping, rather than gracefully speed he'd used earlier.

"Why was Bane so angry?" Harry wondered aloud. Firenze didn't answer. Chrys sighed, tired of her brother's habitually insensitive curiosity. Firenze came to a stop.

"Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?" He questioned slowly. Once more Chrys was reminded of Dumbledore's pattern of speech, the way he used questions to lead the discussion where he wanted.

"No," Harry admitted. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in potions. Right, Chrys?"

"Uh-huh," she confirmed, she tried to think of something clever to add, but her head swimming from the earlier pain. All she could remember about unicorns was some vague line about purity and innocence. Sitting up so high wasn't helping her either.

"That is because it is a monstrous thing to slay a unicorn," Fienze explained. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain would commit such a crime." He told them how drinking unicorn blood would keep someone alive, even if they were on their deathbed, but in return that person would be forever cursed. This was the price of taking an innocent life. Bile rose in Chrys' throat.

"Who would be desperate enough to live a like that?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't it be better to die rather than being cursed forever?"

Firenze started forward again. Chrys tried to ignore what the bouncing up and down was doing to her stomach. "It would be," he said. "Unless you only need to stay alive long enough to drink something else, something that would bring you back to full strength and power…something that would mean you would never die." It sounded like he had something in particular in mind. "Do you know what is being hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The sorcerer's stone!" Harry realized. "Of course, it's the elixir of life! Still, I don't understand who would want—"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?" Firenze interrupted.

"Voldemort," Harry and Chrys said together. Chrys twisted around to see his expression. She was sure that his fearful frown was mirrored on her own face. She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be fine, but it hurt her to lie to him.

"Harry! Chrys!" Hermione was shouting and running towards them. Harry slid off the centaur's back, taking Chrys with him. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked, embracing them in one giant hug. Hagrid came along behind her, nearly crushing the three of them to death. Once he let go, Harry dutifully told him about the dead unicorn just down the path. Hagrid sadly went off to check, leaving Firenze enough time to catch Chrys' eye and give her a short nod.

"This is where I leave you," he said softly. "You are safe now." Chrys did not know how to properly express the depth of her gratitude.

"I'm glad I met you," she told him. "Even though it was so scary—no, all the more because of that, I'm glad I met you." His head cocked to the side.

"Before now, there have been times when the planets have been read incorrectly, even by the centaurs. I hope this is one of those times." He bowed his head to each of the twins in turn. "I wish you luck."

Firenze was gone in the blink of an eye. Chrys felt a heavy weight on her heart. Firenze seemed full of wisdom and pride. How dark was the future going to be to make him wish he were wrong?

She hadn't much time to think on this however, as Neville and Malfoy came running up, wondering what had happened in their absence. Chrys told them a centaur had rescued her. Malfoy looked incredulous, but perhaps a little relieved if she squinted. Neville gave her an awkward pat on the back and suggested she drink liberal amounts of tea as soon as possible.

Instead, Chrys padded slowly up to the girl's dormitory, pulling out her Weasley jumper and what was left of her holiday licorice. When she returned to the common room Ron was sitting bolt upright, listening to the end of Harry's explanation.

"Snape must want the stone in order to give it to Voldemort…we thought he wanted to get rich, but all this time Voldemort was waiting in the forest—"

"Stop saying the name!" Ron protested weakly. Harry rolled his eyes and continued.

"Firenze saved me from _Voldemort_ , even though Bane was furious and said that it was interfering with the future that they read in the planets…that future must have something to do with Voldemort gaining power again. I bet Bane thinks Firenze should have just let Voldemort kill me…maybe that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron growled. Hermione tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shook her off. Harry was still rambling on.

"As soon as Snape steals the stone Voldemort will be able to finish me off." He chuckled darkly. "Well, at least Bane will be happy."

"Harry…" Hermione tried to comfort him instead. He allowed her to pat his back. It seemed to work. He quieted and listened to what she had to say. "Everyone always says that Dumbledore is the only one You-Know-Who has ever feared. With Dumbledore around You-Know-Who won't touch you. And anyway who says the centaurs are right? " She huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. "It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

Chrys nodded. "That's right. In all the old stories the fortunetellers are kind of tricky. Their predictions may sound like one thing while actually meaning another. I'm not sure how legitimate fortune telling is, but if you have to pay it any mind, focus on Firenze rather than Bane. I got the feeling that Firenze has hope, even if he thinks the future is dark. He also said something about forging your own path. We're pretty used to doing things our own way, right?" She nudged his side with hers. Harry smiled weakly. "Then I'm not giving us up for dead just yet." Chrys clenched her fist in determination. Hermione smiled as well. Ron nodded slowly.

He stayed unusually quiet as the other three traded theories, until the sun rose and he suggested they head off to bed. "You'll need a good rest after a night like that," he told them.


	15. Of Tests and Thresholds

The next morning Harry pulled Chrys up to his dorm and showed her that their invisibility cloak had been returned. "It was under my pillow last night, along with this." He excitedly held up a neatly folded note. Chrys opened it, eyes widening at the familiar handwriting. It was the same as the writing on their anonymous Christmas card…

"What does it mean by 'just in case?" She wondered aloud.

Harry grinned. "Don't know, but its kind of impressive that they managed to sneak it up here."

Chrys chewed her lip. "Maybe, though I sort of wish they'd just been more straight-forward."

Later, Hermione agreed with Chrys. "After all, if the person who gave it to you was really a friend of your father's then why not hand it over face to face?"

"Maybe they're shy?" Harry suggested. Chrys thought, like most of Harry's excuses, this was rather weak.

"Anyway, there are more important things to worry about," Hermione went on.

"Like Voldemort bursting through the doors and killing us off?" Harry piped up.

"Or the up-coming Quidditch final?" Ron put in.

"Surely she means the sun stroke we're likely to get in this heat?" Chrys half-joked.

Hermione was not amused. "No. I meant that we should be focusing on preparing for our exams."

"Oh." Ron shook his head. "As always, your proprieties are messed up Hermione. Harry and Chrys might die—isn't that more important than some stupid tests?"

"Of course it is. Don't you dare suggest that I don't care about my friends!" She glowered at him. Ron raised his hands up in surrender. Hermione took a deep breath. "I was merely suggesting, that since Professor Dumbledore is here to protect them, they might as well pass their exams with flying colors."

"It'll be a miracle if we're able to concentrate what with everything that's going on," Harry sighed.

"Not a miracle," Hermione said firmly. "Just the product of hard work! Think about it, years from now you'll look back at this time and be so proud of yourselves for succeeding despite the possible setbacks."

"I consider being murdered more than a slight possible setback," Chrys muttered under her breath, though she understood where Hermione was coming from. Hermione was a perfectionist—making her best effort was second nature to her. Chrys was more concerned with the simplicity of survival. Though it might kill Hermione, a few mediocre grades wouldn't be the death of Chrys.

On the other hand, having to fend off the man who killed her parents certainly sounded fatal.

Then there was Harry's safety to consider. Even if Voldemort ended up being a no-show, Harry was so distracted by the chance of the murderer's arrival that he could barely remember to put one foot in front of the other. Recently he'd turned rabbity, eyes bugged, jumping at the slightest sound. Chrys almost preferred the hateful looks rather than the pitying glances that followed her about the halls.

"Perhaps they're brain damaged and that's why they lost so many points. I suppose we can't blame them if that's the case," one Ravenclaw said in a dulcet tone. Chrys had her wand raised, and the leg-lock curse on her lips, when Hermione slunk up behind her, whispering in her ear.

"Ignore them," Hermione told her. "It's not worth it." Chrys took a deep breath and lowered her wand. "There we go. Now that you've calmed down, let's go ace that charms practical."

"I'll try." Clearly, Chrys was not the only one getting emotional, she thought as she eyed Hermione's extra frizzy hair. "Good luck to you, Hermione."

"Luck has nothing to do with it…" Hermione patted down her hair self-consciously. "Though I appreciate the sentiment."

Soon Chrys was called into the Charms classroom to complete the practical part of the exam.

"Welcome, Miss Potter," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "For this part of the exam I'd like you to make this pineapple tap-dance across the desk." Chrys stared blankly at the spiky fruit. "You may begin at any time Ms. Potter." Flitwick smiled encouragingly. Chrys sighed and clutched her wand.

 

"Well, how'd you do?" Harry asked once everyone had finished. Chrys let her hair cover her face like a particularly scruffy curtain. Harry lifted it away. "Hello in there?" He caught sight of her face and winced. "That bad, huh?"

"Bloody pineapple didn't tap-dance?" Ron asked sympathetically. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh it danced all right—straight onto Professor Flitwick's head!" Chrys grumbled. Hermione gasped, but Harry and Ron dissolved into laughter. "Don't laugh!" Chrys smacked at their arms. "It was so embarrassing…"

Harry cleared his throat, the corner of his lips still twitching. "You'll be fine," he assured her. "Flitwick can take a joke."

"Merlin that's loads better," Ron added between gulps for air. "A good laugh can cure anything." Indeed Harry's lazy grin was most relaxed she'd seen him in ages. His smile was like sunlight soaking into her bones.

After that, the Transfiguration Practical went much more smoothly. Instead of letting her nervous energy run rampant Chrys managed to focus her creativity. Her little brown mouse became an elaborate snuffbox at the twitch of a nose. Professor McGonagall even gave her extra points for the way it flashed red and gold.

Of course, Snape's teaching was neither encouraging nor rewarding. Though on paper potions was her second best class, in practice the exam was a horrible representation of her skill. Snape's harsh stare on the back of her neck made her furious and a little bit frightened. Sweat dripped from her fringe, clouding her glasses. Chrys fumbled, her knife jumping out of her clammy hands and nearly taking a dive into her unfinished potion. She snatched it out of the air and gripped it tightly.

"A point off for buffoonish clumsiness," Snape announced loudly enough for the entire room to hear. Distinctly Slytherin sniggers rang out. Chrys angrily stabbed at her ingredients. "Two points further for smashing the mistletoe berries too harshly," he added coolly. "Though I'm not surprised. You've shown no signs of delicacy in the past."

"Yeah well despite my name, I'm no dainty flower," she spat back before she could stop herself. She expected him to milk the retort for more points, but he merely raised an eyebrow at her. She painfully reduced the speed of her berry smashing, trying not to imagine his face on the small spherical objects, as it only made her want to pulverize them more.

 

"I hope the old bat does try to steal the stone," she grumbled as they finally escaped the dungeons. Harry gave her a curious look. "Just so I can see the look on his face when he's caught and sent to prison… do they even have a wizarding prison? They must have, right? I mean, there's got to be some sort of punishment for attempting to resurrect a serial killer like Vol—"

"Shush!" Harry warned her as Neville came up behind them.

"Feeling better now that it's over, Harry?" Neville wanted to know.

"Huh?" Harry and Chrys wondered in unison.

Neville shuffled his feet. "Oh… I just thought you had a bad case of exam nerves, since you've been having trouble sleeping recently."

Harry waved his arms wildly, probably trying to get Neville to shut up, but it was too late.

"Exam nerves? Why haven't I heard about this before now?" Chrys crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her brother. Harry gulped. Neville shot Harry an apologetic look before stumbling off in the opposite direction. Chrys tapped her foot impatiently. "Well?"

"I haven't had exam nerves. It's just those nightmares again… except now I keep seeing his face… or rather lack of one…"

Unbidden images forced their way into the forefronts of her mind. Chrys shuddered. She could see the silvery blood dripping from the dark void under that black hood. Harry was right, there hadn't really been a face. Without a face Voldemort was seemed even more inhuman, if that were possible. "I can see why that'd be keeping you up."

"You haven't been having them?" Harry wondered, intrigued. Usually they had the same nightmares. Chrys always thought it must be a twin thing but now…

"No." She shook her head. "Lately as soon as I shut my eyes I see this twinkling light, something like a star. It grows brighter each night. Soon I'll go blind."

"Wouldn't take much." Harry tapped her smudged lens. She nudged his shoulder with hers.

"Anyway, in my case it probably is exam nerves—Hermione's probably overstuffed my head in prep for the astronomy exam."

"Could be," Harry chuckled. Then he cringed, thumbs massaging his temples. "Ugh. What about your head?"

"Still hurts," Chrys admitted. "At the least it's a prickle, at the most it's a throb."

"Throbbing… I'd say more someone's stabbing me right between the eyes." He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Chrys snorted. "You know, I've got an idea about all this."

"Uh-oh."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just hear me out. Do you think the pain could be a warning? I mean, we've had loads of headaches, but nothing like this. I just feel…"

"…like a little black rain cloud is following us around and we're waiting for the lightning to strike?" Chrys suggested. Harry traced his scar thoughtfully. Chrys scratched at hers. Felt itchy. She pinched Harry's cheek to distract herself. "Neville's probably right, we'll feel better once these exams are over."

"Hope so," Harry responded muffled. He crossed his fingers. "Only History of Magic left now."

 

"Woo!" Chrys cried out once Professor Binns announced that their time was up. She ignored Hermione who was trying to compare all of their answers from memory, and followed Ron outdoors.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron groaned. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, going over the test afterwards makes me feel ill." Chrys nodded in agreement. She squinted her eyes and peered up at the blinding sun.

"Let's just enjoy the sun, and sweltering heat while we can," she said, fanning her flushed cheeks.

Ron stared. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

"I'm not, not un-sarcastic," she told him cheerfully.

"You sound like Fred and George." Ron frowned hard. Chrys slapped him on the back.

"Speaking of whom—look they're tickling the Giant Squid. Think I'll go say 'hi' to their new slippery friend." She skipped over towards the ginger twins, glad to have a chance to goof off and relax for a change.

"Hullo, Chrys," Lee greeted her. "Survived your exams?"

"Not at all. Farewell, dear friends!" She clutched her chest and crumbled dramatically onto the grass.

"Adorable how worked up she is about ickle-firsties exams, isn't it George?" Fred cooed, ruffling her hair. Chrys frowned and smoothed it down.

"Just you wait until your third year, we've died several times over the past couple of weeks," George told her.

"Our ghosts have come back to punish all who take exams lightly!" They said in unison, making howling noises and waving their arms in her face.

"Anyway…" She ignored them, turning to Lee instead. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fred pouting. "How did get the Giant Squid to come so close, that's amazing!"

"If you can believe it, those two 'geniuses' figured it out," Lee answered, jerking his thumbs at his wiggling best friends.

"Now, we don't deserve all the credit," George said, leaning on Lee's right shoulder.

"Sure, Lee's just as clever with a bit of toast as we are," Fred added, leaning on Lee's left shoulder.

"I really hope that's not some euphemism I'm not aware of," Chrys muttered. Lee cleared his throat.

"He just means you put a bit of toast on this." Lee held up a fishing pole with a bit of bread attached as bait. "I'll demonstrate." He let loose the line and concentrated on luring over the squid.

"Ole GS can't resist the scent of burnt toast, Merlin knows why," Fred explained as they waited.

"Perhaps it's how his mother used to make it," George suggested.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Course it is. The squid's mother used to burn his toast when he was a wee tyke, and now he's nostalgic for the smell—wonder why I didn't think of that in the first place."

"Cause you're not as clever as me." George nodded righteously.

"Really?" Fred leaned in and suddenly they were going at an impromptu staring contest.

Chrys tickled at their sides to gain their attention. "And then what?"

They let out identical high-pitched giggles before slapping her away. Lee turned to laugh at the sight, as the squid finally arrived close to shore.

"Now that he's close you can scratch him between the first two suckers on the second tentacle from the left. Unless you're scared?" Fred smirked.

Chrys put her hands on her hips. "I'm not scared," she insisted. She stood on tiptoe, trying not to slip and fall into the water, but she still couldn't reach.

"We'll give you a hand," she heard Fred say before he grabbed her leg.

"Or two," George added, grabbing the other. Standing tall with the added boost, Chrys touched the slimy skin between the proper suckers. The tentacle froze for a second and then rippled pleasantly.

"Good job," Lee congratulated her.

"After dealing with Norbert this is nothing," she said before thinking. Her mouth clamped shut immediately. Fred and George dropped her down in-between them.

"Who's Norbert?" They wanted to know, faces hovering close to her's.

"Er, my imaginary friend," she told them, thinking that weak excuses must run in the family. "He's ten feet tall and green and scaly with feelers coming out of his head like this." She plucked two long blades of grass and stuck them under the arms of her glasses. The boys laughed. Then the squid's tentacles shivered again, this time letting out a spray of ink. Fred, George, and Lee dodged automatically, laughing harder as Chrys scrubbed at her face with her sleeve. 

"Do you remember Alicia chased after you with her broom cause she happened to walk by at the wrong moment?" Lee recalled amusedly.

"How could I forget?"

"I'm still knocking twigs out of my ears."

Chrys took this opportunity to sneak away.

When she got back to the others, Harry was in ultimate grump mode. He leant against a tree, arms crossed hard as he glared into the distance. "What's up with him?" She faux whispered to Hermione.

"He's still worried about the stone," Hermione whispered back.

"Hard to take him seriously on a day like today though," Ron said at full volume. Harry turned his glare towards them. Hermione gave Ron a look like, 'see what you did now?' Ron simply shrugged and shut his eyes. Hermione tried to smooth down Harry's ruffled feathers.

"Now Harry, you do realize you have a tendency to dramatize certain emotions?"

"What, like the overwhelming feeling of impending doom?"

"Exactly like that. I'm sure it's only leftover test anxiety that you're feeling. Why last night I woke up in a cold sweat thinking I needed to take another look at the third chapter of—"

Chrys tuned her out, trying to communicate silently with her brother. She shared his feeling of some sort of building pressure, but to what end, she had no idea.

"Look at that," Harry observed tiredly. A grey owl was looping lazily through the sky, carrying a large letter in its beak. "Wish someone else besides Hagrid would send us letters—not that I don't appreciate hearing from him. Hagrid's a great friend. He's so loyal, especially to Dumbledore. He'll never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy…" Harry trailed off and suddenly jolted upwards. "Ah-ha!" He exclaimed.

"What is it?" Ron sprung up, looking around confusedly.

"I've just thought of something," Harry said, his voice going hoarse. Chrys worriedly watched the blood drain from his face. "We've got to go see Hagrid."

Ron puffed air into his cheeks. "Now? I was just having the coolest dream—"

" _Now_." Harry's eyes were wild.

"Okay, okay." Ron stood up. "If it's that important to you."

As they ran down the hill, Harry pointed out how strange it was that Hagrid had always wanted a dragon and one just happened to show up in the pub he frequented. Dragon eggs were too rare and illegal for that to be a coincidence.

Chrys and Hermione exchanged a nervous look.

Hagrid was sitting outside his home, shelling peas into a bowl.

"Hullo." He smiled at them. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes please," Ron said as Harry said, "No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something." Hagrid's smile disapeared at Harry's urgent tone. "You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

Hagrid shrugged. "Dunno. He wouldn't take his cloak off."

Apparently it was common practice to hide your face down at the Hog's Head. "Yes… I see…most suspicious…" Hermione mumbled under her breath. Chrys agreed. She shivered as she remembered the last person she'd met who had kept his face hidden.

"You must've learned _something_ about him, though," she said aloud. "Didn't you talk while you were playing cards?"

"Course we did," Hagrid agreed, but he was frowning hard. "Though, can't fer the life o' me remember what abouts." The stranger had been generous about buying drinks.

"Did you mention Hogwarts at all?" Harry prompted. Hagrid had to scrunch up his face in order to remember. He recalled talking about his job, how he dealt with plenty of dangerous creatures, so something like a dragon would be no trouble at all. Still, the hooded man had wanted more of a specific example, so Hagrid he knew how to calm Fluffy easily, by playing him a bit of music.

"It soothes 'im, so he'll go straight off ter sleep," Hagrid explained. Hermione's mouth made a wide O. Hagrid seemed to realize what he'd said. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that! Forget I said it! Hey—where're yeh goin?"

Harry raced back up the hill without another word. Ron and Hermione jogged after him. Chrys paused. She gripped Hagrid's hand, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

"See you later Hagrid," she told him softly as she left. Though she knew this could be a lie. For all she knew, in a couple of hours, she might be dead.

 

"Why'd we stop?" Ron wondered as they slowed in the Great Hall. "I was just staring to get used to all the running."

"It's not over yet," Harry said grimly. "Dumbledore, where's his office?" His voice was firm, but his body was shaking uncontrollably. Chrys reached over and rubbed his arm, though she knew this wouldn't help get rid of his chill.

"…Fred and George could tell us," Ron spoke up.

Harry shook his head. "They'll want to know why we want to know and we don't have the time to explain. We need to find Dumbledore…" Harry spun around wildly as if the correct door would just appear before them. Chrys was sure that he would have thought of a solution to their problem, though Harry-flavored solutions often had the unpleasant effect of worsening the issue at hand.

Luckily, this was the exact moment that Professor McGonagall happened to pass by. "Why are you three inside?" She wondered suspiciously.

Hermione stood straight and cleared her throat, politely asking to see Professor Dumbledore. Harry and Ron shot her admiring looks. Chrys slipped into a small smile, despite the situation.

Of course, Professor McGonagall was not so easily moved.

"Why?" She wanted to know. Harry replied that it was a secret. Chrys wished he hadn't. Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared and her voice dropped several degrees in temperature. She told them at any rate, Professor Dumbledore had been called away to deal with an urgent situation in the Ministry of Magic.

"But this is important!" Harry panicked. Professor McGonagall very much doubted it was more important than anything the Ministry of Magic needed.

"But it is!" Chrys cried. Professor McGonagall looked curiously at her. Chrys knew if she was going to cooperate she would need to see the big picture. "It's about the Sorcerer's Stone," she and Harry said in unison. Professor McGonagall stumbled and dropped the books out of her hands. Her glasses dangled off one ear, revealing unusually expressive eyes.

"How do you know…?" She trailed off. Chrys had never known Professor McGonagall to be at a loss for words until this moment. Hermione leaned over and helpfully stacked up the books as Harry once again begged to talk to Dumbledore in order to stop someone from stealing the stone. Professor McGonagall was still shocked, but she was quite sure that the stone was well protected, and whatever it was they had to tell Dumbledore could wait until he returned tomorrow. She took back her books and bide them goodbye, pointedly telling them to go out and enjoy the sunshine.

"Stupid sunshine," Chrys grumbled.

"He'll do it tonight," Harry voiced. Like Chrys, he thought that the suspiciously convenient letter from the ministry was just the opportunity Snape needed to steal the stone.

Hermione nibbled nervously at her nails. "What can we do? Snape is a professor and we're only students. How can we—"

Ron quickly elbowed her side, shutting her up just in time. Speak of the devil, Chrys thought.

"Good afternoon," he said, examining them like a scientist ready to dissect his specimens.

"It was," Ron muttered.

"Excuse me?" Snape asked dully. Chrys cleared her throat.

"Good afternoon, Professor," she replied sweetly. "How can we help you?" Snape appeared to be trying to smile. He looked like someone was strangling him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he commented. Hermione opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

"We were…" Harry started, confusedly.

"…enjoying the shade. I think I've got sun stroke." Chrys swooned dramatically against Ron, who shoved her off. She had the distinct impression that Snape was repressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"You want to be more careful, hanging around like this people will think you're…up to something." Then he threatened them with further loss of points, or worse (as Hermione would say), expulsion, if he caught them out past curfew. He looked almost cheerful at the thought—well, as cheerful as someone like Snape could be.

"It's like he knew what we were thinking." Harry frowned.

"He is rather observant," Hermione pointed out.

"Then we'll just have to be equally observant," Harry said firmly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione looked wary.

"You should keep an eye on him. Wait outside the staff room and follow if he leaves," Harry told her.

"Why me?" Hermione asked, startled.

"Duh, you can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick. Like, _Oh I'm so worried I think I got question 14B wrong,_ " Ron said.

Hermione frowned. "Oh shut up."

Chrys shook her head. "Yeah, it's more likely that she'd be worried she wrote too much for question 14B."

"You shut up too…" She sighed loudly. "If Harry thinks it'll work, then I'll do it." She stomped off in the opposite direction. "And for your information 14B was a multiple choice!"

"Right, and we should go check on Fluffy again, make sure no one is trying to sneak by him," Harry told Ron. Ron sighed and nodded slowly. "Chrys?"

"I'd better go with Hermione," Chrys decided. "She's in such a foul mood she might end up bullying poor Professor Flitwick."

"I think it's you who's putting her in such a foul mood…but okay, be careful," Harry said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Meet you in the common room if anything goes wrong," Chrys told him, before rushing off after her friend.

And of course, something did go wrong. Chrys and Hermione were regarded as suspicious right from the start.

"What do you want?" One of the stone gargoyles guarding the teacher's lounge grunted.

"I-I'm waiting for Professor Flitwick," Hermione stumbled over her words.

"Well I think he's in there somewhere, right?" The first gargoyle asked the second.

The second gargoyle flashed his permanently etched smile. "Fairly certain he is. Why don't you go and see, dearies?"

"I'd rather wait outside, if it's all the same to you," Chrys muttered.

"No, it is not," the first gargoyle answered grumpily. "I want to make sure you're not up to any shenanigans."

"It's my right to be up to shenanigans if I want to be," Chrys responded.

"Yeah, well you can take your rights and shove it up your—!"

"What's going on out here?" It was Professor Snape. When he saw Chrys, his lip curled unpleasantly.

"These kids are lollygagging near the door, very suspicious if you ask me," the first gargoyle reported. By his expression, Professor Snape seemed to agree. Though, Chrys couldn't be sure as he always looked at her like she was a pile of animal droppings he'd accidentally trodden on in his favorite shoes.

"Well nobody asked you!" She snapped at the gargoyle. Then she looked up at Snape. "Hermione just wanted to see Professor Flitwick about the test!"

"Is that so?" Snape frowned. "Well then I'll go get him for you. Wait here." He went back inside, slamming the door behind him.

"That was unusually polite for him," Chrys observed.

"Yes, yes, too bad we can't stay and see how it plays out." Hermione tugged Chrys off in the opposite direction.

"He told us to wait, are you really going to disobey a teacher?" Chrys teased.

"I can't possibly speak to Professor Flitwick about the exam," Hermione squeaked.

"Why's that?" Chrys wondered. She'd thought exams were Hermione's favorite topic of conversation.

"I ran into him earlier, quite literally, and in typical Professor Flitwick fashion he merely brushed away my apologies, and what's more quite proudly told me I've gotten one hundred and twelve percent on his exam… so obviously I know I haven't got question 14B wrong."

"Obviously," Chrys repeated, squishing down the worm of jealousy that squirmed in her stomach.

Harry and Ron had all ready arrived at the common room. They were slouched into their favorite sofa, wearing identical sulking expressions.

"No luck either?" Chrys guessed, squeezing in-between them. Ron made more room for her.

"Yeah, Professor McGonagall caught us right away. Reckoned we couldn't have protected the stone too well anyway," Ron informed them.

"She had a point though," Harry admitted.

"Sure but there's no need to take off another fifty points," Ron grumbled.

"Did she?" Hermione asked, eyes narrowing.

"Not yet," Ron told her. Hermione sighed and sunk back in the couch as well. It was a bit crowded. She was practically sitting on Ron. Chrys slid face down onto the carpet.

"Now what?" She murmured into the softness.

"There's nothing for it. The only option left is to get through that trap door and take the stone before Snape does," Harry reasoned. Chrys jolted up and invaded his personal space.

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard from you—and you've had some pretty stupid ideas over the years!"

"You're mad!" Ron agreed.

"You can't!" Hermione added. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"So what!" Harry roared. He argued that getting expelled would be better than Voldemort taking over. Losing Hogwarts because he took action would be better than sitting by and doing nothing, as they lost Hogwarts to the Dark Arts. If he died, at least he would have died trying, instead of waiting for Voldemort to come and get him. "I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you say is going to stop me!" He looked at Chrys, and she wanted to hide behind her hair. "Voldemort killed our parents!" His words hit her hard. "Or have you forgotten?"

"Of course not," she whispered, her fists clenched together. "How could you think...?" He released his breath and crumbled, head bumping up against her shoulder.

"Sorry," he muttered. Automatically her fingers ran through his hair and she felt just a bit better, just enough not to break down.

"Me too," she managed to get out.

She looked up when Hermione sniffled.

"You're right, Harry," Hermione relented.

Harry stood. "Excellent. I'll use the invisibility cloak. Lucky we got it back."

"Hermione says there's no such thing as luck," Chrys said thoughtfully.

"Well we'd better hope she'd wrong for once." Ron got up, stretching his long legs. Hermione glanced at him. "We'll need plenty of luck if we're going to make it through tonight." Harry gapped. Ron snorted. "Oh come off it, you didn't think we'd let you go alone?" Harry tilted his head, considering.

"Of course not." Hermione stood at his side. "How did you think you'd get the stone without us? I'd better go and look at my books, there might be something useful…" She marched up the stairs.

"You'll get expelled if we're caught," Harry called after her. Hermione kept marching.

"Not if I can help it."

"All we have to do is not get caught," Chrys reasoned.

"And not die," Ron reminded her.

"Right. That too."

Dinner was a hushed affair. None of them, not even Ron, felt much like eating. Fred and George were taking turns flicking green beans at his mouth, seeing if he would swallow them. He was so steely faced, Chrys wasn't sure he even noticed. Hermione flipped quickly through the pages of her books, occasionally squinting at a line and nodding to herself. Chrys was trying to coax Harry into eating something, though she knew it was a hypocritical gesture.

"Come on, baby brother, you've got to build your strength up for tonight."

"I'm not your baby brother," he said, bemused. "Anyway, you're scrawnier than I am."

"Barely."

"It's noticeable."

"Only to your overly observant eyes." She chewed nervously at the edge of a carrot. Across the table Fred twitched his nose and wiggled his fingers on top of his ears. She turned to Harry. "We'll be fine."

"Are we ever?" He wondered.

She thought about it for a moment and decided, "Even when we aren't, we are… if that makes sense."

"Unfortunately, it does. Pass the treacle tart."

 

"You're being passive aggressive," Hermione muttered as she finished plaiting Chrys' hair into a 'proper adventuring hairstyle.' Ron looked up.

"Huh?"

"You're glaring at Fred and George and Lee hoping it'll make them want to leave."

"Well they're the last people in the room besides us," Ron said, looking around at the mostly empty common room. "As soon as they leave Harry can go get the cloak, and then we're off."

"Better bring that flute too," Chrys suggested, suddenly remembering the hand carved instrument Hagrid had given Harry for Christmas. "Or else I'll have to sing Fluffy to sleep."

"Anything but that," Harry said, but he was still smiling a minute later when he followed Lee up the stairs.

While Harry was away, Neville came down the stairs chasing after Trevor.

"All right there, Neville?" Ron was not so subtly leaning behind Neville to see if Harry was coming down yet.

"I'm okay," Neville said quietly. "What are you guys doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same question," Chrys retorted, more aggressively than she meant to. Neville frowned, holding up Trevor, clutched so tightly that his eyes were bulging. "Oh… right… we were just..."

"Playing chess?" Ron suggested.

"Without a board?" Neville blinked in confusion.

"Doing homework," Hermione said.

"We've got homework?" Neville's eyes mirrored Trevor's.

"We were acting out Shakespeare," Chrys invented wildly. "Hermione go on, say your lines."

Hermione floundered and recited, "Er… _Not so: I am as ignorant in that as you, in so entitling me, and no less honest, than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant, as this world goes, to pass for honest_ …"

"What…?" Neville looked more and more confused word by word, but before he could get out a full question, Harry came bounding down the stairs, cloak in hand.

"We'd better put it on in the common room and make sure it covers up everything. We don't want Filch to…" He trailed off as Chrys motioned wildly for him to shut up, but the damage was done.

"You're going out again," Neville accused.

It wasn't a question, but Harry shook his head unconvincingly in response. Chrys chewed on her lip, annoyed at her brother's inability to look innocent.

"No, no, no. No, we're not," Hermione tried to say. "Why don't you go back to sleep Neville?"

"You can't go out," Neville said "You'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"Well, maybe," Chrys acknowledged. "But there are more important things than House Points at stake, Nev."

Harry glanced out the window at the gathering darkness. "We're running out of time."

"I won't let you do it." Neville stood sentry in front of the portrait hole. "I'll... I'll fight you!"

"Neville!" Ron snapped. "Get away from that hole and don't be an idiot--"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" Neville snapped back. Ron blinked. Chrys smiled slightly. Earlier this year, Neville wouldn't have dreamed of talking back to Ron. Neville seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not against _us_." Ron rolled his eyes as if this were obvious. He took a step forward. Trevor escaped again as Neville raised his fists to defend himself. "Neville…"

"Do something," Harry hissed in Hermione's ear. Chrys would've laughed at his automatic dependence on Hermione had the circumstances been less dire. Hermione raised her wand and apologetically cursed Neville to the ground.

"Full body-bind, right?" Chrys recalled from a list of defensive spells Hermione had made her read when Malfoy started bullying her.

"I'm so sorry, Neville." Hermione looked tearfully at Neville's frozen form.

"I don't know whether to be scared or impressed," Ron mumbled under his breath.

"Bit of both?" Chrys suggested.

"I haven't hurt him… I hope." Hermione started to panic. Chrys knelt down next to Neville to check his pulse.

"He's fine… better than us probably." She stood, giving him a sad little wave as Harry prepared the cloak. She wondered if this were the last time she'd see her friend. In that case, "Sorry I couldn't give you a better goodbye."

They maneuvered gloomily through the castle, somewhat because they might be heading towards their deaths, all the more so because it was rather stuffy with the four of them under one cloak.

"It's a good thing you two are so thin," Hermione whispered. Chrys pinched her hip self-deprecatingly.

"Well, if we make it out of this alive I'll promise to eat more," she said.

"Come over to my house and mum'll fatten you up in no time," Ron told her.

"Great time to have this conversation guys. Just keep talking, loud as you like," Harry grumbled. "Not like Mrs. Noris or Peeves could pop up and expose us to the whole castle or anything like that."

"Did you have to say 'expose?' That wording is a bit—" Hermione started to complain.

"Just be quiet please," Harry cut her off.

As it turned out Harry's paranoia was not unwarranted. The quartet ended up running into both Mrs. Noris and Peeves that night.

Mrs. Noris was not much trouble. She gave them the usual long, soul-piercing stare, but quickly slunk off into the dark afterwards. Peeves on the other hand somehow managed to sense that students were out of bed, wandering about invisibly. He taunted them, but in a stroke of brilliance Harry pulled off a perfect imitation of the Bloody Baron, reducing Peeves to shivers and stutters.

Ron laughed appreciatively as soon as they were out of earshot. Though he immediately sobered up when they saw the door to the third floor corridor was open.

Snape must have all ready begun his journey.

Harry tried once more to convince them to let him do it on his own.

"Don't be stupid," Ron told him.

"We're coming," Hermione said shortly.

Chrys grinned. "I'm afraid you're never getting rid of me."

He returned a sad smile. "Here goes nothing." They stepped inside. A low growl vibrated straight into her heart. Three large noses breathed in, causing her hair to fly forward.

"Is that…" Chrys stared.

"Snoring?" Harry finished. "Yeah, I reckon it is."

"There's music coming from over there." Hermione gestured.

Ron leaned forward. "It's some sort of harp that's playing by itself…." As soon as he said that the harp strings stilled and the music came to a stop. The snoring dwindled off. The Cerberus twitched uncomfortably as if he might wake up.

"Play the flute maestro." Chrys nudged her brother.

It wasn't a pretty sound, but it seemed to do the job just fine. The moment Harry started playing the beast calmed again and the snoring continued.

"There's the trap door." Ron started towards it. "Don't stop playing," he told Harry. Harry gave him a look like, 'no duh.' "Talk about dog breath." Ron wrinkled his nose. He pulled open the rusty door handle, joking that Hermione should jump first. Hermione wasn't laughing. The trap door had revealed only pure, unadulterated darkness. Harry handed over the flute to Hermione. Of course he would volunteer to go first.

"You're not going without me." Chrys insisted, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I don't know…it's a rather small opening," Harry feebly protested.

"Well, as everyone keeps pointing out we're the scrawniest kids to ever live. I'm sure we'll both fit at once."

"If you're sure," Ron said uncertainly. Harry told him to wait until they gave the okay before following. If something went wrong, Ron was to use Hedwig to contact Dumbledore.

"Why didn't we just do that in the first place?" Chrys mumbled, though she knew there wasn't enough time for writing letters. Not that she didn't trust Hedwig, but Chrys still didn't want to bet the entire future of the wizarding world on the post arriving in a timely manner. She briefly wondered if Harry's flair for dramatics had finally infected her.

They jumped.

Cold, damp air smacked at their faces. Chrys let out a silent scream as they landed in something that smelt and felt like leftover string beans. She was sure she'd left her stomach trapdoor entrance. Harry called up to the others, telling them the landing was soft. Ron and Hermione followed just before Fluffy's barks echoed through the chamber.

Chrys' eyes began to adjust. Something tickled at her ankles, but she ignored it, ecstatic to see that their friends had landed without trouble.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," Ron said.

"Lucky!" Hermione edged up against the wall. "Look at what's happening!"

The tickle she'd felt at her ankles had now made its way up to her thighs. The plant that they had landed on had sprung to life and began to wrap around them with a choking pressure.

"If only Neville were here, he'd know what to do about this stupid plant!" Chrys growled as she struggled.

"Herbology!" Hermione's beautiful big brain whirred. She was the only one unscathed, flattened against the wall as Ron, Harry and Chrys fought the plant. The plant was winning.

"Now is not the time for studying!" Ron yelped the plant tied his wrists to his sides.

"No, you idiot, this is Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," Ron snapped, his voice going hoarse as green tendrils curled around his neck. Harry gulped for air as Hermione tried to remember how to kill it.

"It likes the dark and damp…" She recalled nervously.

"Then light a fire," Harry told her.

"Right…but…there's no wood." Hermione nibbled at her nails. Chrys spluttered in indignation. The Devil's snare had begun wrapping around her glasses. She heard a horrible crack as Ron angrily reminded Hermione that she was a witch.

From a small-uncovered portion of her left eye Chrys saw familiar blue flames rush out of Hermione's wand.

A great sense of relief flooded through her as the plant retreated. Or perhaps that was just her blood circulation recovering. Either way, it left a wonderful feeling of being alive. A couple of bruises and some smashed glasses couldn't put a damper on her suddenly glowing spirit. Harry gave her a questioning look. She gave him a thumbs up. He sighed and complimented Hermione's memory. Ron snorted in disbelief.  
They shuffled through a passageway that appeared to be the only exit. "Oh! Your glasses." Hermione noticed. "Let me." She tapped at the lens and they knit themselves back together.

"Oh, so _now_ you remember you're a witch," Ron grumbled.

"Let's just focus on the task at hand," Harry told them, frowning at the stonewalls.

They were quiet for about a second and then Ron spoke up again. "Do you hear something?"

Harry nodded. "It sounds like…wings."

"Hopefully we don't have to fight off a giant bird," Chrys joked. Hermione cringed.

"Please don't tempt fate."

"I was thinking a dragon would be more likely. This place reminds me of Gringotts." Harry glanced around critically.

"Death by dragons would be a cooler death than giant birds,' Chrys reasoned.

"Shut it," Ron told her. She was about to protest but… "I see a light up ahead."

At any other time Chrys would've made a joke about not going into the light. However, at the moment there was too real chance of this being more of a prediction than a joke.

Luckily, this light was not yet the light after death. Lamps spread their yellow warmth across the high-arched ceiling, glinting off mysterious rainbow-winged birds.

"They look like fairies," Chrys commented.

"Those are nothing like fairies," Ron informed her. "Hermione, what are they?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure…they're flying too fast…"

"Do you reckon they'll attack if we try to cross the room?" Ron considered. A single door stood solidly shut at the opposite end of the chamber.

"Probably," Harry sighed, ever the pessimist. He clenched his jaw and decided to make a break for it. Chrys and Hermione followed with their wands raised hesitantly, but the birds continued zipping across the ceiling, paying the quartet no attention whatsoever. Unfortunately the door was locked.

"If we had a dragon we could burn it down," Chrys thought aloud.

"Enough with the dragons." Ron rolled his eyes. "Besides, we don't need dragon-fire. We just need a key."

"How original, brilliant, spectacular, I applaud your thinking." Chrys showered him with faux-praise.

"Why would they put those birds in this room?" Hermione wondered. "They can't just be for decoration."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed. "They're not birds at all. They're keys!" His eyes darted around, searching the chamber until he found what he was looking for. "Broomsticks. We're supposed to catch the key that opens this door!"

"So the key is probably big, and old-fashioned…maybe silver like the handle," Ron figured.

"Brilliant," Hermione breathed, slipping into a small smile.

"There are only three brooms," Harry noticed. "One of us should stay on the ground, catch the key and open the door as quickly as possible." Hermione's smile melted. She glanced at Chrys.

Chrys was marginally a better flier than Hermione, but Hermione wasn't afraid of heights.

"I'll go," Hermione sighed. Chrys thanked her with a silent nod.

Harry was the flying choreographer, spotting the key and guiding their movements needed to catch it. Once he grasped it in his hands, he tossed it to Chrys, who caught it and fitted it into the lock. The other three landed, crowding around her as she slowly turned the handle.

"Well this is dark," she observed as she stepped into the blackness. "I could use some light." At her words small puffs of fire blew up in grates all over the room, revealing their next challenge.

"It's a giant chess set," Hermione realized.

"Obviously," Ron agreed. Harry stretched his neck and stared into the distance.

"The door is behind the white pieces… how do we get past them?"

"I'm guessing we've got to join up and play our way across," Ron said, studying the board. Hermione had started biting her nails again as Ron walked up to the black knight and asked it if they had to join to get across. The knight leaned over, removing his helmet to hear better, and then nodding in answer to Ron's question. Ron turned to the others. "Now, don't be offended or anything, but none of you are that good at chess—"

"We're not offended," Harry assured him.

"Especially Chrys," Ron continued.

"Now I'm a little offended," Chrys sighed. "But do go on Ron, it's as if this challenge was made for you."

"Really?" Ron flushed.

"Really, really," Chrys said.

It may as well been. Ron guided them across the board just as Harry had guided them through the air. Though just as during the first two challenges, Chrys was filled with fear. It was all she could do to keep walking straight.

In the end, Ron lived up to both his Gryffindor name, and his assumed title as a knight, sacrificing himself to allow Harry to checkmate the king.

"This is why I hate chess," Chrys blubbered, glancing back at Ron's crumbled form through foggy glasses as they moved into the next room. "We shouldn't have left him behind!"

"There's no time to check on him, no time for tears," Harry said, though he looked about ready to join her.

"He'll be fine," Hermione said firmly, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself.

"That smell," Harry said as they entered the next room.

"Uncle Vernon?" Chrys wrinkled her nose. "Oh, the troll." She saw it, like Ron, crumbled on the ground with a bump on its head. She nearly broke into tears again, but Harry gripped her hand and helped her climb over the troll.

"Next will be Snape's challenge," Hermione thought aloud. It was. The room was empty save for a table covered in a neatly organized line of potion bottles, and one scrap of paper. Again, when they stepped into the room, flames broke out. This time bruise-purple flames blocked the entrance, while glittering black flames blocked the only other exit.

"We're trapped," Harry groaned.

"Look!" Hermione rushed forward to the table in the middle of the room, snatching up the piece of parchment. She read it aloud. "It's a riddle," she decided, breaking into a giant grin.

"Hermione is excellent at riddles," Chrys informed Harry.

"You've got a pen?" Hermione asked. Chrys reached into her pocket, surprised to find it still in one piece. Hermione scribbled on the edge of the paper, nodding to herself. "I think I've got it." She held up one bottle of potion that would allow them to step through the purple flames unharmed, and another that would do the same for the black flames.

"There isn't enough here for the three of us," Harry said, eyeing the small bottle that would lead them forward.

"Then I'll have to go back," Hermione realized sadly. "I'll go back to Ron, and then find a way out of here. Someone needs to inform Dumbledore of what's happened."

Harry blinked at her. "That's what I was going to suggest. You can use the brooms in the key room to fly through the trap door, okay?" He looked at her. Hermione nodded. "Only… why did you agree so easily?"

"That's no riddle, Harry. You won't give up until you've given everything, and until then Chrys will be at your side. No one can separate you two."

"Thank you," Chrys clasped her hands. "Take care of Ron for us."

"I will. Don't worry, you'll be brilliant…" Hermione pulled her into a hug, and then to Harry's surprise, hugged him as well. "Both of you."

"You're blushing," Chrys teased him.

"I—I'm not as smart as you are," he told Hermione, honestly. "I'm no match for Voldemort."

Hermione shook her head, showing humility in the oddest of times. "You have bravery, and you have each other. If you can distract him until Dumbledore arrives… If it can be done, you can do it."

She drank, and was gone.

"I'll miss that bushy-headed girl," Chrys said quietly.

"And the tall boy with the freckles," Harry added. He sipped from the bottle, careful to leave her the last swallow. She drank, feeling the icy touch of the potion running through her blood. "Together?" He offered her his hand.

"Together." She took it. They stepped through the flames, which licked pleasantly at their legs, across the threshold, into the unknown.


	16. Of Matter and Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, last chapter of Book 1.

Of all things Chrys had expected to see when they entered the room, no stretch of the imagination could have prepared her for that purple turban.

Her breath caught in her chest, but Harry managed to force out one word of surprise. "You!"

"Me," Quirrell responded lightly. His confident smile threw Chrys off completely. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter… though admittedly I didn't expect two for the price of one!" He sneered at Chrys.

"Well tonight is the night of the unexpected," Chrys replied bitterly. Harry stepped in front of her.

"We thought… Snape…" Harry scratched his head. Chrys understood his confusion. Even with the man standing in front of them, it was hard to image such a boring pushover as the mastermind behind all the nefarious plots.

Quirrell was aware of the seeming unlikelihood of him being this year's villain, especially compared to Snape's gloomy exterior. He'd used this to his advantage, remaining unsuspected in the shadows.

"At the Quidditch match… you tried to kill my brother?" Chrys questioned, her mind running on overtime.

"That was Snape!" Harry insisted, not wanting to believe otherwise.

"Severus?" Quirrell's grin widened toothily. Chrys had liked him better as an unhappy wuss. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?" 

Chrys grimaced. Talk about not judging a book by its cover, and all that. Harry wasn't so easily convinced. "But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no." Quirrell waved his hand dismissively. "I tried to kill you." Chrys sucked in a breath as she realized.

"At the Quidditch game... Hermione said she bumped into you..."

"Yes..." Quirrell's smile faded somewhat. "Your friend accidentally knocked me over when she rushed to set fire to Snape. That broke my eye contact with Mr. Potter. Too bad, another couple of seconds and I would have gotten him off that broom." Quirrell nodded at Harry. "Then, even with Snape muttering the countercurse, you would have been finished."

"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry mulled this over. Quirrell explained that Snape had purposely volunteered as referee during the next match to better protect Harry. Though of course, Quirrell wasn't about to try anything right under Dumbledore's nose.

Quirrell shrugged dramatically. "What a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

A roaring anger rose in her heart. She went to rush at Quirrell, unsure of what she would do to him exactly, but was removed the effort of decision as Dark Arts professor magicked vines to hold her and Harry back.

"If we make it out of this, remind me to thank Snape, Dumbledore, and _especially_ Hermione," Chrys growled as the vines wrapped tighter.

"You won't make it out of this chamber alive," Quirrell assured her. "You Potter twins are far too nosy to live." He had been planning to kill them from the start, ever since he thought they might have seen him go after the stone on Halloween.

"You let the troll in," Harry and Chrys realized. Apparently Quirrell had a special skill with trolls.

"Of course, your stink fits in just fine with them," Chrys muttered. Quirrell frowned, ignoring her and refocusing his attention on a familiar mirror in the middle of the room.

"Erised," Harry whispered. Quirrell knew the mirror would help him get the stone, though he didn't know how. Dumbledore had manufactured the last challenge quite well. At this, Harry seemed to remember their mission to distract Quirrell long enough for Dumbledore to arrive. So Harry did what Harry did best—he let loose his incessant curiosity. "I saw you and Snape in the forest—"

"Yes..." Quirrell walked around the mirror. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me— as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side. . ." Chrys was reminded of the mustache-twirling villains in Dudley's afternoon cartoons. Maybe they could get him to keep bragging about his plans until help arrived. But Quirrell was still focused on the mirror. "I see the Stone. . . I'm presenting it to my master. . . but where is it?"

"But Snape seems to hate us so much," Harry continued, pulling at his bindings.

"Oh, he does," Quirrell agreed distractedly. "Heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know?" Harry and Chrys shared a quick frown. "They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"Before, I thought I heard sobbing," Harry pressed. "I thought Snape was threatening you."

For a moment the familiar look of anxiety reappeared on Quirrell's face. "Sometimes… I find it hard to follow my master's instructions… he is such a great wizard, and I am weak…"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry prodded. Quirrell patted his turban absentmindedly.

"He is with me wherever I go," he said. Chrys wondered what he meant. Her stomach squirmed. All this time the man who murdered her parents had been in the castle with them? She thought she'd found a safe place, but now they would die here... She looked at Harry. He was thinking hard. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it..." Chrys rolled her eyes. "Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times..."

"The attempted robbery at Gringotts," Chrys realized. "You were at the Leaky Cauldron that day. You were trying to get the stone. Bet your 'master' loved that."

Quirrell shuddered. "He does not forgive mistakes easily," he admitted. "He has had to be very hard on me. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me. . . decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. I don't understand. . . is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?" Harry blinked. He knew something, Chrys was sure of it. He was trying to inch closer to the mirror, but the vines were too tightly wound round his ankles. "Master, help me!"

And then Chrys heard a voice that made her blood run as cold as Snape's potion had. _"Use the boy…"_

Quirrell nodded. "Yes..."

"Leave him alone!" Chrys protested.

"Mr. Potter..." Quirrell waved his hand and Harry's bindings released. Harry rubbed his wrists, glancing at Chrys. His eyes were determined. "Come here. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see." Harry strode over and stood in front of the mirror. "...Well? What do you see?"

Harry swallowed. "I see... I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've won the House Cup."

Quirrell cursed. "Get out of the way," he hissed. Harry moved to the side, looking from Quirrell to Chrys. Quirrell was glaring at the mirror again. Slowly Harry inched up the steps.

" _He lies…"_ The cold voice spoke.

Quirrell whirled to face Harry. "Potter, come back here! Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

 _"Let me speak to him..._ " the cold voice said. _"... face to face."_ Quirrell stiffened.

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

 _"I have strength enough..."_ The voice said, as Quirrell reached for his turban, and Harry stared wide eyed. _"...for this..."_ The turban fluttered down, and Quirrell turned his back to him. On the back of his head, was another face. Her scar hurt so much it made her eyes water. Voldemort's face was pale as snow, and his eyes were red as blood. His slit nostrils drew in a breath. _"Harry Potter..."_

"Harry!" Chrys choked out. The red eyes flickered to her for a moment.

 _"Chrysanthemum..._ " Voldemort greeted her. _"Are you frightened?"_

"Harry, get out of there!" Chrys begged him. "Run!" Harry seemed frozen to the spot. Voldemort let out a soft laugh. Chrys shuddered as she recognized the sound from her dreams of flashing green light. She thrashed at her bindings. They bit into her skin, but did not break.

 _"This is what I have become_ ," Voldemort continued. _"Mere shadow and vapor... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and_ _minds_. _Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks. . . you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest._ "

"Right, sounds like a great life, living out the back of someone's head!" Chrys snapped. Voldemort looked vaguely annoyed, or amused, or both.

 _"Once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. Now.. "_ He turned slightly to Harry. _"Why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"_ Harry finally stumbled backwards. _"Don't be a fool! Give me the stone and I will spare you and your sister. Join me, or meet the same end as your parents. They died begging for mercy."_

"Liar!" Harry shouted. He had reached the top of the steps. He pulled at the vines that held her in place. 

"Harry, just go," Chrys said weakly. "Don't worry about me, just get out of here—"

"Don't be stupid!" Harry said.

 _"How touching..."_ Voldemort said. _"I always value bravery. Yes, your parents were brave... I killed you father first..._ " Chrys swallowed. _"He put up a courageous fight. But your mother needen't have died... she was trying to protect the two of you. Now, give me the stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."_

Harry squeezed her hand. "Never!" They said together.

 _"Very well. Quirrell, take it from him_ ," he ordered. Quirell grabbed Harry by the wrist. And then they were screaming. Harry, Quirell, and Chrys screamed. Chrys could feel Harry's pain chorusing through her veins, blazing in her scar. It was nearly blinding, but through squinted eyes Chrys could see Quirrell leaping back his hand steaming, slick red with burns. _"Seize him!"_  Quirrell tried to grab Harry around the neck, and his blisters worsened.  _"Seize him!"_ Quirrell kicked Harry to the ground, pinning him down with his knee against his chest. 

"Master, I cannot hold him!" Quirrell panted. "My hands—my hands!" The pain had distracted Quirrell enough for his magic to weaken. Chrys finally tore free of the vines, rushing at Quirrell and punching him swiftly in the face.

Where her fist connected with his jaw, she felt a searing heat. Quirrell howled.

 _"Kill her!"_ Voldemort said.

She kept at him, punching, slapping and kicking every inch of skin she could reach. Whenever she hurt him, she could feel her own skin bubbling in fiery protest, but she was used to pain. Physically, Quirrell might have been stronger than her, magically, he certainly was—but Chrys could withstand any level pain, especially if that meant protecting Harry.

She felt a twinge of guilt, and digust at herself, as Quirrell fell, his body disintegrating like ash in the wand. She fell too, to her knees, clutching at Harry, who was lying achingly still.

"Harry, Harry," she called. He needed to wake. Her fingers fluttered to his neck, skimming across the blooming bruises and delightfully catching onto his pulse. He must have passed out from lack of breath when Quirrell was choking him. She glanced back at what was left of the professor's body, her guilt lessening.

Then she saw it. Heat rose from Quirrell's ashes, shimmering in a glaze. The heat bent light as it slunk towards her, engulfing her completely.

She heard his voice, echoing painfully through her head. _"How? You are not the one… how did you…?"_

Voldemort had said there would always be willing hearts and minds— hers was not, but it hurt too much for him to even try.

This was how she was going to die.

At least she managed to save Harry first. Affection glowed in her chest. Voldemort hissed, and the terrible pressure lifted away.

"You've done well, Chrysanthemum." The kind tone washed away the bitter taste Voldemort had left in her.

"Dumbledore." Her vision was blurred. She thought she might be crying. The next moments were all a blur. She remembered latching onto Harry and refusing to let go, babbling incoherently as Dumbledore tried to reason with her. She thought she might have even pulled at his beard at some point… Though she could not be sure, as before long her mind melted into darkness.

 

She woke to gentle fingers stroking through her hair. "Your plait is ruined." Hermione.

"You'll just have to redo it then," Chrys croaked, opening her eyes. Chrys got a mouth full of Hermione's hair as her friend attacked her in a hug.

"You're awake!"

Chrys struggled for air. "Oi! Give her some space," she heard Ron say.

"Sorry…" Hermione released her. Chrys smiled. Hermione's buck-toothed grin was infectious.

"Alright, Chrys?" Ron pressed a familiar shape into her hands. Chrys gratefully perched her glasses back on her nose, where they belonged.

"Yeah, you?" Her eyes flickered over him, relieved to see no sign of injury.

"Oh you know, beating Hermione at chess, nothing new really," he responded casually. Hermione rolled her eyes. Chrys laughed.

"Ohh…" The laughter pulled painfully at her side.

Hermione stood up immediately. "What's wrong? I'll get Madam Pomfrey." She rushed off.

"Pomfrey…" Chrys looked around. The Hospital Wing's bright white walls stung at her eyes. "I see." Her nose wrinkled. "Ugh, wish Hermione wouldn't. Madam Pomfrey will only fuss."

"Sure, only I reckon you deserve some time to be fussed over, what with everything that's happened," Ron reasoned. Chrys stuck her tongue out at him as Madam Pomfrey strode formidably into the room.

"Miss Potter, good to see you awake." Madam Pomfrey bustled around Chrys, taking all sorts of measurements and asking her all sorts of questions about how she was feeling until she was satisfied. "Hmmm… that'll be all for now. I had better go inform the Headmaster. He wanted to know when you and your brother returned to consciousness." Chrys bolted upwards, eyes wide. "Now, now Miss Potter, calm yourself!"

"Harry!" Chrys saw him in a bed nearby, nearly falling to the floor in an attempt to get to him. Her head spun as she tried to stand. Ron and Hermione moved to help her, but Madam Pomfrey reached her first.

The nurse pulled her up by the shoulders, deceptively strong for such an old woman. "Miss Potter! You are not well enough to get out of bed. Lie done and rest before I am forced to stun you."

Chrys froze. "Let me check on Harry," she demanded. Madam Pomfrey sighed.

"It's understandable that you would be worried about your brother's wellbeing, but that is no reason to injure yourself."

"I wasn't going to injure myself," Chrys scoffed.

"You may not have been trying to, nevertheless at the rate you were going you would have succeeded." Madam Pomfrey put her hands on her hips. "Can we proceed in a more civilized manner?"

Chrys chewed on her lip, trying to simmer down her frustration. "Can you… _please_ tell me how Harry is doing?"

"One moment and I'd be glad to." Madam Pomfrey turned to Ron and Hermione. "You two, it's getting late, best be getting back to your rooms."

"But we want to stay," Ron protested.

"No, she's right." Hermione shook her head. "We should let Chrys rest." She pinched the sleeve of Ron's robes and steered him out of the Hospital Wing.

"Now." Madam Pomfrey quietly pulled up a chair, coming to sit at Chrys' beside. "What would you like to know dear?" Her clever grey eyes assured Chrys that she was serious about answering any questions. Chrys leant back into her pillows.

By the time Ron and Hermione came to visit the next day, Harry had finally woken. Dumbledore was just leaving as Ron and Hermione entered the room.

"Blimey, what did he want to talk to you about?" Ron wanted to know.

"I'm sure it isn't any of our business," Hermione said briskly, swooping in to give Harry a bone-crushing hug. Ron frowned.

"We went through the trapdoor too you know," he reminded her. "We have just as much right to know what the hell was going on in Hogwarts."

"Language," Hermione lectured. She scratched her neck. "I suppose you're right though. Harry?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth. "Uh…"

"So when we got into the final room down there, Quirrell was there," Chrys started.

"Yeah..." Ron frowned. "We heard that, but I can't believe..."

"Dumbledore did say the Hogwarts rumor mill is practicularly..." She glanced at Harry.

"Presistent?" He suggested. She shrugged.

"Anyway, um, Harry got the stone from inside the Mirror of Eresid."

"The trick was, to want it, but not to want it to use it," Harry explained to them. "After that, I sort of passed out..." He rubbed the back of his neck. Then he grinned at Chrys. "Last thing I remembered was you attacking Quirrell."

Chrys nodded. "Well, that was satifsying, but I'm still not sure exactly _how_ that all happened. Dumbledore said it had something to do with our mum dying to save us..."

"...Her love protected us," Harry said quietly. "Made it so that Quirrell couldn't touch us."

"Anyway, then Dumbledore came, and I guess he got us out of there, somehow?"

Hermione nodded. "That is what they're saying. But we weren't sure what happened to the stone, after all that."

"It's going to be destroyed," Chrys said. Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Then Mr. and Mrs. Flamel are going to die."

Harry and Chrys nodded. "Dumbledore said they aren't too fussed though," Chrys told her. "Like, they've lived a very long, fulfilling life, and all that."

" _Death is but the next great adventure_ , Dumbledore said," Harry told them. 

Ron considered this. "I always said he was off his rocker."

Hermione shook her head. "No, that's J.M Barrie, from _Peter Pan_." She flushed. "I fancied him when I was younger," she whispered to Chrys.

"Wait, the author or the character?" Chrys wondered in an undertone.

"Well, er both I suppose." Hermione hid her face in her hands. Chrys laughed as Ron eyed them suspiciously. Hermione cleared her throat. "And what about You-Know-Who?"

"Dumbledore said call him by his name," Chrys said.

" _Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself_ ," Harry quoted. Hermione tilted her head.

"I like that."

Ron grimaced. "Easy for him to say— he's _Dumbledore_. But, ah, he's finished then, You-Know-Who?"

"Probably not," Harry and Chrys said together.

"Chances are he'll find another way back," Harry said.

Ron shivered. "Great. Bloody fantastic."

Hermione shot him a look. "Oh, but, get this," Harry said. "Dumbledore's the one who gave us the cloak! He said it was our dad's, and he used to use it to sneak around, and stuff."

"And apparently Snape and our dad got along about as well as Harry and I do with Malfoy," Chrys continued. "Which explains why Snape hates us—"

"A school boy grudge?" Hermione muttered. "That's terribly unprofessional."

"Except, then dad saved Snape's life, which made Snape even angrier, but also meant that he didn't feel right letting Quirrell do us in," Harry finished.

Hermione patted him on the shoulder. "That's a lot to process."

"More importantly," Chrys said, turning to Ron. "Is it true that Fred and George tried to send us a toilet seat?"

"Oh yeah!" Ron chuckled as Hermione rolled her eyes. "You should've seen Madam Pomfrey's face when she opened the wrappings to see if it was appropriate for _recovering adolescents_." Chrys grinned.

"And was it?" 

"Not even a little." Ron reached over and snatched up a pasty from the table.

"Will you thank them for me?"

"Thank them yourself," Ron suggested, muffled as he chewed. Hermione looked appalled. "Probably be back now that you're awake. Dean and Seamus too." He gestured at the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "It's been under Seamus' bed since Christmas, but it's the thought that counts I suppose."

"Other people came to visit us?" Harry sounded embarrassed.

Ron and Hermione nodded. Ron counted off on his fingers. "Neville, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and her sister, er, what's her name again?"

"Padma," Hermione put in. "She left you a note by the way… an apology note?" She gave Chrys a questioning look.

"Ah." Chrys shrugged. "Can't say I blame her, but it's nice to get an apology all the same."

"Dean left a card as well." Ron held up a fiercely drawn lion.

"Cool." Harry eyed it admiringly.

"You never say any of my drawings are cool." Chrys pouted.

"The affect rather wears off when you're at it twenty four seven," Harry teased.

"Neville tried to bring you a funny smelling plant, but Pomfrey chucked that out with the toilet seat," Ron continued as if he hadn't heard them.

"What sort of plant?" Chrys was curious.

Hermione answered in her typical tone of reciting from some book in her brain. "It had tightly grouped yellow flowers so I think it was a yarrow blossom which in the flower language means—"

"Get well soon," Madam Pomfrey interrupted.

"That's sweet of him. Why'd you have to throw it out?" Chrys frowned.

Madam Pomfrey quirked an eyebrow. "Someone could have been allergic."

After Madam Pomfrey kicked Ron and Hermione out, Chrys and Harry had some much needed time to talk. Harry reflected on Dumbledore's actions and words, wondering if the sneaky old man had actually meant for them to face off against Voldemort. "He gave us the cloak, taught us how to use the mirror…"

"And those challenges were like perfectly tailored to our skills," Chrys added. Her brow furrowed. Well, not any of _her_ skills. "If he did set us up to fight Voldemort, that's not a very fair thing to do."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Maybe it was his final option… or we're just over thinking it all."

"We do have a tendency to do that," Chrys admitted. Harry nodded as he chewed and swallowed the last pumpkin pasty. "Hungry much?"

"Bored of this hospital food," Harry explained. Madam Pomfrey's nutrient supplements were filling, but not entirely satisfying. "Wonder if we can convince Madam Pomfrey to let us go to the feast tomorrow. Ron said the food'll be great."

"Fat chance of that," Chrys grunted. Madam Pomfrey was an excellent nurse, or healer or whatever, but her strictness left something to be desired.

Luckily Chrys was wrong, and the twins were allowed to the feast. "Praise Dumbledore!" Chrys cried when she heard the Headmaster had explicitly allowed them permission.

"Indeed," Madam Pomfrey tutted, as if she was thinking the exact opposite. "You have another visitor by the way."

"Oh, good." Harry sat up cheerfully. "Who is it?"

It was quite apparent who their visitor was, as he stood in the doorway, sobs echoing loudly into the room.

"It's all my ruddy fault! I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg!"

"Oh, don't cry, Hagrid!" Chrys said. "I'd probably be a bit silly if I had a chance to win a dragon egg as well."

"I'll never drink again!" Hagrid insisted wetly. "I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!

Chrys looked hopelessly at Harry. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow," Harry reasoned. "This is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could've died!" Hagrid cried. "An' don' say the name!"

"Voldemort!" Harry shouted. Hagrid froze in shock. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads..." Harry handed one over.

"Reminds me, I've got a present fer yeh two." Hagrid squeezed through the doorway.

"Not stoat sandwhiches, is it?" Harry said. Hagrid chuckled as he squeezed in between their beds.

Looking this way and that to see that Madam Pomfrey wasn't watching, Chrys stood tiptoe on her mattress and used her sheets to wipe away Hagrid's tears.

"Thank yeh, Chrys, an here," he said gruffly, handing over a book covered in warm colored brown leather. Harry quickly came and sat at the edge of her bed so they could open it together.

"Oh wow!" Chrys reached up and wrapped her arms as far around Hagrid as they could go.

"Glad yeh like it." Hagrid beamed, patting her on the back so that the bed shook.

"Harry, say thank you," Chrys reminded him. He was staring speechless at the moving wizarding photographs of their mother and father, whom they'd only seen a few times in the Mirror of Erised.

Chrys and Harry turned through the pages of the photobook until the last possible moment before the feast, all the way through Madam Pomfrey's insisted final check-ups.

"Wish Hermione had a chance to do up my hair," Chrys complained, spitting a strand out of her mouth as they jogged towards the Great Hall. Harry hadn't heard her, he was too busy examining the Slytherin themed decorations strung up along the ceiling in annoyance.

"If I'd made the last Quidditch match this wouldn't have happened," he grumbled.

"Conceited much?" Chrys teased, though she knew this was him being self-deprecating as always. "Besides, green and silver aren't too bad as far as colors go."

"I prefer red and gold," Harry said grimly as they came to sit down next to Ron and Hermione.

"Hey, Harry, Chrys," Ron greeted them. "You'd think they'd get tired of the staring." He jerked his head at large groups of the students who were standing to get a better look at the twins. Chrys elbowed him hard, wishing he wouldn't have pointed it out to Harry.

Harry sighed in relief when Dumbledore arrived and the students finally went back to their seats.

Dumbledore's speech amusing and confusing as always, and in typical Dumbledore tradition, it held a surprise twist towards the end.

Ron and Hermione blushed brilliantly when they were awarded extra, last minute points for the events that had taken place through the trapdoor. Percy boasted loudly about his little brother's accomplishments, only making Ron flush worse.

"We've nearly caught up to Slytherin," Parvati gasped, having done the maths in her head. Lavender jumped up and down with her fingers crossed.

Next Harry received "Thirty points for pure nerve and outstanding courage…" while Chrys received thirty points for "unflappable loyalty and affection."

Harry laughed. Chrys swatted at him.

"We're tied with Slytherin!" Hermione cheered, joining Lavender's little dance.

"Just a few more points…" Parvati whispered, closing her eyes. Their prayers were answered.

Neville received ten points for standing up to his friends. Gryffindor stood as one, waves of people coming to crowd around the astonished Neville and pat him on the back. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff cheered as well, while Slytherin…

"Look at Malfoy!" Harry tugged at Chrys' arm. Malfoy looked as if he'd been given some sort of electric shock. Dumbledore clapped his hands and the decorations fluttered, changing to match the change in points.

"That's more like it!" Seamus shouted gleefully.

Three fourths of the castle's population was simply elated. Even getting back the marks for their finals couldn't dampen Gryffindor's spirits. Harry and Ron looked startled to have passed, though they were more surprised that Goyle was moving on to year two as well.

"It's a shame, but you can't have everything in life," Ron sighed.

"You can if you work hard enough," Hermione said. She was holding up her scores as if they were the Holy Grail.

"Well, for you maybe," Ron grumbled. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Lavender running out of the girls' bathroom, squealing as Trevor the Toad chased her.

"Oh dear." Hermione scooped him up. "Better go return him to Neville. Otherwise he might get left behind. Speaking of which, you three had better finish your packing." She wagged her finger at them before trotting away.

"Strange how it's almost time to leave," Harry said sadly. "It won't feel right going back to the Dursleys after all this."

"What's it like with your aunt and uncle anyway?" Ron wondered. Harry and Chrys exchanged a look, silently agreeing never to reveal the true extent of the family troubles.

"For one thing the sketching subjects are boring as hell," Chrys told him.

"It has been an exciting year," Ron agreed.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Chrys stuffed her duffle bag full of sketches, sweets, and textbooks. Hermione was lending her _A Winter's Tale_ for some summer reading.

"Are you sure your aunt and uncle won't allow you to visit?" Hermione asked again.

"I'm sure," Chrys sighed.

"Yes, I suppose they'll want you to have some time with the family as you've been away all year," Hermione reasoned. Chrys snorted. The most to hope from such family time, would be that the Dursleys were still in a mood to ignore her.

Still, she wouldn't have to face them until the train ride ended.

The Hogwarts Express was cheerfully bustling as remembered. As the tallest, Ron looked over the crowd of heads and found an empty compartment. Chrys tried to coax Hedwig into eating a suspicious looking Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean before she was interrupted by the Weasley twins.

"Baby brother, any food to share?" George asked, popping his head through the door. Ron shrugged.

"Ask Chrys, she's hoarding it all."

"Am not!" Chrys lied. Fred and George came towards her anyway. "Thanks for the unique gift," she told them. Fred waved his hand dismissively.

"It was nothing," they said.

"We were going to send it to our little sister Ginny," George explained.

"But you looked like you needed it more," Fred finished. Chrys blinked.

"I'm not sure how to take that," she admitted.

"As you will." Fred shrugged, leaning over her shoulder to steal a bean. He plucked up a pink one and studied it careful. "What do you think, strawberry?" Unable to resist, Chrys chomped it off his fingers like a turtle. Fred jumped back in surprise. "Could've took my fingers clean off."

Chrys chewed, making a face. "Ham. Thanks to you I was expecting strawberry."

"You never get quite what you're expecting," George said wisely, snatching the box of beans out of her hands. Fred bumped into him, sending it flying, the brightly colored ovals showering over Hermione and sticking in her hair.

"Chrys!"

"It wasn't me!" Chrys pointed accusingly at the ginger twins on either side of her. Fred and George gulped. Hermione paused, pulled a handful of beans at her hair and pelted them one by one at the perpetrators.

"We'll be seeing you, Chrysanthemum," they waved as they ran, escaping Hermione's wrath by a bean's length. Chrys couldn't stop laughing, even as Hermione turned and attacked her. Harry jumped up and came to his sister's defense.

"Get me ammo!"

"What?"

"The beans, Ron."

"I knew that."

In the end it was Ron who won the Great Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean Battle of 1992. He wouldn't stop gloating about it until they reached the station.

It was the hardest step Chrys ever had to take, that one step through the barrier that guarded Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

She didn't want to leave, but then again, if she didn't leave, how could she return? She knew that. She was however, surprised to see Aunt Petunia's long neck craning above the crowd.

"I wouldn't have bothered, only I was all ready in the area buying some things for Duddy-kins," Aunt Petunia sniffed.

"I'm actually looking forward to seeing our dear cousin." Harry grinned as they followed Petunia to the car.

"Have you gone mad?" Chrys wondered.

"That'd be great! That way I'd be able to think of more creative curses to threaten him with."

Chrys stared. "But… we can't do magic outside of Hogwarts."

"Ah, but what Dudley doesn't know won't hurt him," he pointed out.

Suddenly her grin mirrored his. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"Shut up." His shoulder nudged hers. "… I could stand to hear it more often though," he admitted quietly.

"I love you," she told him. And she meant it.


End file.
